


Liquor Love

by glindalovesshoes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 03:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 32,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8781652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glindalovesshoes/pseuds/glindalovesshoes
Summary: OutlawQueen Advent calendar story Day 5. / After her father's death, Regina comes back to Storybrooke on Christmas Eve. In order to drown her grief, she visits the town's liquor shop. But instead of just a simple bottle of whiskey, the owner, a certain Robin Locksley, supplies her with so much more.





	1. Chapter 1

Liquor Love

 

There it is, the first snowflake of the year. Floating gently down from the sky waving from one side to the other from the light breeze before landing on the tip of her outstretched gloved hand where it melts immediately. She doesn't have time to take a good look at its structure before it turns into a small drop of water on her hand. By looking up she realizes it's starting to snow, slowly but steady. More snowflakes. The idea that every snowflake is unique, that some might look similar but they never really are the same was extraordinary. How can there be billions, trillions of tiny white ice crystals that are never once identical?

It has been a long time since she's seen snow. Cold, wet powdery snow, which covers the streets and roofs and trees, which sparkles like diamonds in the sun and moonlight. There is no snow in Florida, just sun and sand and water. Lots of water. Not that she doesn't like Florida, but when all you've known for the first six years of your life is a white Christmas, presents in front of a fireplace and the traditional snowman building right after breakfast, you miss it. Instead of spending the holidays somewhere cold and wet, her mother has always preferred to take her somewhere even hotter. Mexico, Brazil, the Caribbean - one time they even flew all the way down to Australia. Away, always away as far as she could. Cora has always found a reason for her not to come up here, to spend Christmas with her father. Now it's Christmas Eve, now she's here. Now it's too late.

Regina doesn't miss the warmth, not at all. Doesn't miss the burning sun, the sweaty people, doesn't miss her mother. A mean thing to say, she knows, but she doesn't care since her mother is not here to hear her thoughts and be offended by them. Screw the business meeting she's scheduled for her in order to prevent Regina from coming up here. If she had told her mother she would be coming here, Cora would have found a way to stop her. She always did and Regina loathes herself for yearning so hard for her mother's approval that she would always do as she was told.  So it's a good thing Regina threw her phone out of the window somewhere behind Jacksonville after Cora wouldn't stop calling her. Now, after two days and over thousand eight hundred miles, she's here. And if she's honest, she doesn't know what to do.

Regina hugs her coat closer around her small frame, staring curiously up to the gray sky. She should have brought a more fitting winter gear, she realizes. High heels won't get her anywhere in this weather. It's getting dark soon. She always forgets how early it gets dark here in Storybrooke in winter, especially when the sky is as cloudy and overcast as it is now. The street lamps turn on, orange light engulfing her and the dark blue old Mercedes which has brought her all the way up here. The old thing hasn't let her down so far for which she is grateful.

She's managed to get out of the car, but that's it so far. Stretching sore muscles after a long drive, popping back a few bones in her back and neck. She doesn't dare to take a step closer to the white house on Mifflin Street, which holds all these memories. Memories of children's laughter and giggles, of pancakes in the mornings and fairy tales in front of the fireplace in the evenings. The small balcony, the veranda, the front door - everything looks just as she remembers, exactly the same, except for the apple tree in front of the window where her bedroom used to be. Her father had planted it the day she was born. It had just carried its first small apple fruit the summer before everything changed. Now it was so big, so tall, so many branches which surely would carry the delicious sweet red fruit in late September. Twenty-seven years is a damn long time.

With a friable feeling she remembers the day her mother dragged her screaming and crying six year old self away from the house into the waiting car, away from her home, away from everything she ever knew, away from her father who'd been standing in the doorway close to tears. He hadn't done anything, hadn't fought, hadn't even made an attempt to keep her with him. No, she will never forget the long ride to the airport and her mother's cold stare as she told her not to make a scene. It's the same thing she said when she got the message that her father died of heart failure five weeks ago on a stormy night in the middle of November.

Regina closes her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. She knew her father was sick, had asked her mother a thousand times for time off work so she could come up here and see him, but Cora had always refused, had always had another excuse, another meeting she had to go to. The last time she spoke to her father was three days before he died, when he'd called her on her cell phone while she was at a conference in Lisbon.

_"I love you, princess. And I'm sorry I failed you."_ She thinks that passing her childhood home on to her was his way of making up to her, of giving her back a piece of the time when she'd been happy. After their last call, Regina had made plans to come up here over the holidays as a surprise, screw her mother and this year's celebration party in Honolulu. But then Henry's death happened and now she finds herself here in Storybrooke, but not with her father. Alone. Regina closes her eyes for a moment, choking back the tears, waiting for the next snowflake to fall down onto her face. As the gentle drop of cold hits her heated cheek, she opens them again and takes a deep breath. She can't go inside, not right away, not with all the thoughts of missed opportunities haunting her mind. The decision is made.

With a quick flick of her wrist, she locks her car with the key and makes her way down Mifflin Street, across beautifully lit and decorated houses. There are families inside, pretty lights and trees gracing the windows. Her father's house is the only one that has no lights or any kind of decoration. It's almost sad. She used to love their house at Christmas, all the lights in the trees and bushes and the blinking sledge with the reindeers on the roof of the house. Now her father's house looks lonely, dark, uninviting. No wonder she doesn't want to go inside.

Main Street isn't far off with all the small shops and businesses, which have also gone out of their way to decorate their windows. There's Mr. Gold's pawnshop and she wonders if the old man still looks as creepy as he had when she was a child. There's Maurice's flower shop with the mistletoes and poinsettias outside, white and red, some with gold glitter and some without. Across the street is Granny's diner, the porch decorated with blinking colorful lights. Loud Christmas music is coming from the Rabbit Hole, the most popular pub in town - probably because it’s the only one.

A small smile spreads on Regina's face. She's been gone for twenty-three years and nothing has changed. For a moment she wonders if the milkshakes at Granny's still taste the same, but she doesn't want to go in, doesn't want to become victim of curious stares, questions and condolences. Maybe the day after tomorrow when she's overcome nostalgia has had a good cry and figured out what she would be doing for the next two weeks and after. The pub would be an option, however she's not sure if it would be clever to get drunk at a place where she doesn't know anyone. Wait, when has she made the decision to get drunk tonight?

As she crosses at the traffic lights, a tiny store at the corner where Amos Slade's hunting shop used to be catches her eye. The sign above the door says _Merry Spirits - Liquor Shop & Distillery_, craved on a dark green wooden board with bright white letters. The window is decorated with stars made of snow spray and blinking lights, showing off an old wine barrel and multiple bottles neatly arranged. The light is still on and the sign in front of the door is turned to 'open', which Regina finds a bit weird. It's late, almost half past six and she's used to shops in small towns closing early on days like this. _Merry Spirits_ , what a fitting name for this season. She should be happy, should be celebrating, but she's not. She's sad, tired and honestly getting a bit cold. The conclusion that she cannot avoid her father's house forever draws on her, so she decides to pursue an old habit of hers, a craving she suppresses often but doesn't always quite manage to. Whiskey.

Yes, she is going to get a good bottle of whiskey as her companion for tonight. She's a responsible person - usually - an adult and she's earned it, especially after everything that’s happened in the past few weeks. So if she's a tiny bit hung-over tomorrow morning from two glasses of whiskey, who is going to care? Her mother isn't here to scold her, her father is dead - the thought still stings every time she thinks of it - and she doesn't know anyone here. There won't be presents under the Christmas tree or chocolate chip pancakes Henry Mills style. Besides, Daddy used to share her passion for good whiskey, so she will drink it in his memory. Merry Christmas Regina, Merry Christmas, daddy.

The decision is made and since the snowfall is getting heavier and heavier, she should make the purchase a quick business. Walk inside, grab the next best bottle and then head back home with the paper bag and her companion for tonight. A chuckle escapes her. This is going to be a one-night-stand with a horrible morning after. Like with Edward Hydemann who'd done things to her body that still made her shiver. It'd been an… experience, one she had enjoyed for the time being but come to the conclusion that one time was more than enough. The morning after had been awkward, very, very awkward. With whiskey she knows what she's getting into, so there's that.

Regina is about to push the door of the shop open, as a man appears in front of her. A polite smile graces her features as she steps inside, brushing the door closed behind her. The man is tall and heavy, looks more like a bear with his long beard and curly hair and Regina is sighing because he doesn't look happy to have another customer this late, no, he looks annoyed and a bit grumpy. Of course the shop would be closing now of all moments. But the sign had been turned to 'open' and this had to count for something, right?

"We're closed, Miss."

"I'll be quick," Regina mumbles, because really, she doesn't want to spend too much time here anyway. Just grab the next best bottle and be on her way back.

"As I said," and now he's using this know it all voice she hates so much, the one her mother used to use on her all the time. "We're closed. It's Christmas Eve."

"I know that," she answers with a roll of her eyes. Leave it to the guy to point out something so obvious. "But the sign said it's open, so if you don't want any customers this late you should have turned the sign around and locked up." Regina wouldn't let stupid opening hours get between her and her whiskey. Seriously what a way to treat their customers around here.

"Listen, lady, I don't want to be rude…"

"Well then stop it."

The man let out a growl. "Fine! You're the last customer, but just because it's Christmas. So make it quick."

"Thank you for being so selfless, mister," Regina answers in a mocking tone. Despite her earlier plan to make the visit a quick one, she is wondering how long she could stay in here in order to annoy the owner of _Merry Spirits._ Of course she could pretend to be indecisive and really, after taking a look around, this wouldn't even be a lie.

The liquor shop is not like the ones she is used to. Instead of shelves with bottles, there are barrels, some small, some a bit bigger on the shelves. There is a shelf behind the cashier with small metal barrels, which contain different sorts of vinegar and oils, which catch Regina's interest. Surely a lemon-lavender vinaigrette with a few drops of macadamia nut oil would give her beloved bowl of salad some kick.

On the shelf right opposite the cashier are several clear vessels with tabs hanging from them and the content written on small blackboards with white chalk. It is clearly an extravagant liqueur section; reading from ordinary things like cherry and plum to extraordinary cream based ones such as chocolate, coconut and Vanillekipferl. What the fuck was a Vanillekipferl?

Regina discovers the shop has quite some charm, especially as she enters the second room, which is filled with wine bottles over and over. Her father would have loved it here and for a moment she wonders if he'd been a regular customer.

"You said you'd be quick," a voice behind her mumbles accusingly and well, she would have been quick had this been one of the usual liquor stores.

"I'm just taking a look around." It's an honest answer; she really is just taking a look, because if there is so much variety how is she expected not to?

"Now you're just being annoying on purpose, lady!"

"John! What's going on? I asked you to lock up the shop and… with whom are you arguing?"

Regina turns around toward the voice, ready to defend herself as the man steps into the room. He's… gorgeous. Dark blond hair, a bit of scruff, wearing a well fitting gray shirt with the _Merry Spirits_ logo on it. She can't see the color of his eyes because it's too dark down her for that, but they are twinkling with a bit of mischief and curiosity. And the accent. He's clearly British

"I'm arguing with _her_!"

" _Her_?" Regina asks offended, "Show some respect! Or at least some restraint at the buffet."

"She's impossible, Robin! I was just about to close the shop; she told me she'd be quick and now…"

The man named Robin shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "Since when do you talk like this to paying customers, John? I must apologize for my friend's behavior, Milady. Go upstairs and start with dinner, I'll handle this."

John grumbles something into his beard and Regina is pretty sure he rolls his eyes at the situation once his back is turned toward her. But right now she doesn't care, because hot British guy named Robin is sticking his hand out, smiling a dazzling sort of smile that brings out his dimples. "Robin Locksley, at your service. How may I be of assistance for the lady?"

"Regina." Their eyes lock as he raises an eyebrow in surprise. "I prefer Regina," she clarifies, finally realizing he's still waiting for her to shake his hand, which she grabs quickly. The handshake is warm, welcoming, with just enough pressure to make her feel comfortable. For some reason, she misses the contact directly, inhales deep and is surprised to find herself engulfed by the smell of wood and forest, mixed with spice and the lasting promise of good whiskey. It's probably the barrels and the room and maybe, just maybe the man in front of her who smiles charmingly at her, while he waits for her to say something. Right, Regina, say something.

"I'm sorry to bother you this late on Christmas Eve." Her fingers begin to nestle with the button on her coat nervously. "I just need some whiskey and I'll be gone."

Great, now he probably thinks you're an alcohol addict or something, she scolds herself, before she bites her lower lip and drops her head onto her neck. "That came out kind of wrong."

Robin chuckles, a calming sound, which makes her feel a little less embarrassed. A little. God, she's too tired for this, the drive was long and the prospect of heading back out into the cold, snow covered street and then to the dark house where her father used to live but doesn't live any more seems less and less attracting to her the longer she stays in the cozy warmness of the shop. Maybe it was a bad idea to come here all by herself; maybe she should take her colleague Mal up on her offer and drive back down to Boston to spend Christmas with her and her daughter. No, no she wouldn't do that. Don't be so childish, Regina! Great and now there's her mother's voice inside her head and she can't deal with her mother, not today, not here and not on Christmas Eve. She really, really needs this alcohol.

"May I take your coat?" Robin asks, a hand outstretched and why the heck would he want to take her coat? Her confusion is obvious to him, so he clears his throat before he waved a hand via the whiskey barrels. "People don't come to my store to get just _some_ whiskey. Buying your whiskey has a whole tasting experience included, specially for someone who just came to town and doesn't know the magic that's sold in my store."

"Magic?" Her tone is a bit mocking for she doesn't believe in magic anymore, never really has even though her father tried his best. Not after everything that happened when she was a child.

"Whiskey. It is a liquid that can conjure courage, give strength, or even act as a love potion of sorts. But of course you're not restricted to that. I have a fair share of beverages here which might turn out to be something you didn't know you've been looking for before you try it."

It's sweet, yes, this man is really sweet, but it's Christmas and she has taken up enough of his time. His colleague seems to be already pissed with her and she doesn't want to give him more trouble tonight. He probably has somewhere to be - she's probably the only one who has nowhere to be tonight. But when she tells him so, Robin only shakes his head, tells her that it's fine and that he wants to do this for her, because really, she has to take her time to decide. It's something that shouldn't be rushed. So Robin holds out his hand once again, asks for her coat and scarf which she's now unbuttoning because if she's staying longer here, it'll really get too warm and honestly, if he insists on giving her a free whiskey tasting who is she to decline? Any excuse not to go home is more than welcome.

Regina hands her things over, watches how he puts them onto a hook right next to the door before he guides her over to two old but very comfortable looking leather armchairs in the corner of the room. Her breath gets caught in her throat as she lets her hands glide over the smooth leather and for a moment she's reminded of her father and his study where a pair of very similar looking armchairs used to be. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Regina sits down on the right of the armchairs which are so comfortable she makes a note to get one for her apartment in Miami once she goes back to work. As she looks around, she notices the mistletoe right above her head. It's a bit of a weird place considering this is where Robin usually serves his customers, but she doesn't think anything of it.

"Are you comfortable or would you like me to get the fire started?" Robin asks which catches her off guard, because really, he's got a fireplace in his damn shop?

"It's just a small oven." Ah, this answers her question, because so much alcohol in one room with an open fire does sound a bit dangerous.

"Thank you, I think I'm good for now," she says with a smile.

Robin simply nods, before he turns around to collect two crystal whiskey glasses from the counter, fills them with one ice cube each and walks over to the area with the barrels. He rests for a moment, clearly thinking about what to pour her, before a soft grin crosses his lips and he chooses the second one from the left. The amount he pours is not much, but she's okay with that because she only wants to try one, grab a bottle and then be gone. It feels a bit awkward to have Robin perform this kind of ceremony as he pours the liquid into the glasses, waving his hand, once, twice, and then smelling the whiskey with his eyes closed, a satisfying smile on his face.

"Let's try this one first, one of my favorites, the Scottish McTavish malt. It's an intense, smoky-sweet single malt with seaweed flavors and a huge finish. The fact that it has aged in oak casks for the last sixteen years gives it a special note." He hands it over to her before he sits down in the armchair next to her.

Regina is surprised, has never heard of this whiskey before but she's definitely intrigued. She lifts the glass up to her nose, smells just like her father has taught her. There is the note of intense peat smoke with iodine and seaweed, but the best part of it is a rich, deep sweetness.

"I'm impressed," the man next to her admits, as Regina apparently must have said her thoughts out loud. She blushes, wonders once again what he must think of her but then, why should she care? Her stay here in Storybrooke is temporary, at least for the holidays. On the other hand, his shop has clearly its own charm and she could see herself making it a habit of coming here to get her whiskeys filled freshly from the barrel. How a small business like his survives in a town like Storybrooke makes her curious because he knows she's new in town, has said so himself and she didn't correct him. Strangers attract attention.

Slowly, Regina guides the glass to her lips to take a sip. It's a rich, dried fruit sweetness with clouds of smoke and strong, barley-malt flavors, so warming and intense she doesn't know whether it's perfect or simply too much. It is only after she swallows that she tastes the peppery explosion at the back of her mouth, which clearly gives the whiskey some kick.

"Does my choice suit the lady?" Robin asks, taking a sip himself.

"Perfect," Regina answers, taking another sip, enjoying the explosion of flavors on her tongue. Her glass is almost empty, maybe two more sips left, so she puts it onto the wooden table in front of her, rises and grabs her purse. "I'll just have a bottle of this one and be gone…"

"Regina." The sound of her name makes her shiver because he says it in a way that makes her name sound so incredibly sweet and for some reason… sexy. "Regina, sit down." When she doesn't do as asked, just stand there and looks at him with her eyes wide, lower lip caught between teeth, he tugs at her wrist. "Stay. I never let a customer leave with only having tried one thing. I'm sure I can top it off, but for this you have to be willing to work with me, okay?"

"Okay," she breathes out, slowly sits back down after dropping her purse right next to the armchair. She knocks back the rest of the whiskey to calm down her nerves, just then realizing that this was probably indecent, but Robin just chuckles. Without another word he gets up to exchange her glass for another one with whiskey from another barrel. The glass is fuller this time, almost two fingers of expensive single malt which make her wonder once again how the shop can survive here when Robin basically hands out samples which cost more than the bottle she's going to purchase eventually.

"Let me introduce you to the famous 25 year old McKenzie Single Malt, one of more elegant character, suited for kings and queens." Her eyes lit up at the name, because she's heard it before, this is not the first time. It's her father's favorite whiskey and darn, she has to hold back the tears because that's exactly what the two of them would have done today. A nice quiet dinner and then an evening in front of the fireplace with a bit of Johnny Hartman while waiting for the clock to turn to midnight so they could open up one present each.

"Are you okay?" Robin wonders, his voice filled with concern as he sets down the glass in front of her. She nods but escapes his questioning eyes.

"It used to be my father's favorite."

"I see…"

"He died a few weeks ago." It was hard to say it out loud, harder than she thought it would be. She thought she was okay with it, had worked through it, but right now she felt that this was far away from the truth.

"I'm sorry Regina. This must be very hard for you."

"You have no idea," she shots back, raises her eyes too look at him, just then seeing the sad look in his face, the look she recognizes only far too well, because it's the same she has whenever she looks into the mirror nowadays. Who was she to judge this man's experience with loss? This had been cold; heartless… this would have been something her mother would have said. No, no, she doesn't want to be like her mother. "I'm sorry, that wasn't fair."

"It's fine," he answers but she still feels guilty, wondering if she should get up and leave, because she's taken up enough of his time, has insulted his colleague and now him and what kind of person was she to sit in a liquor shop on Christmas Eve, drinking whiskey samples with a stranger?

"No it's not. It was rude."

"We all grieve differently, Regina. Some express their emotions through anger, some through silence. Everyone should be allowed to grieve at their own pace. I'm sure Henry would understand. I lost my wife three years ago. It was a long and hard battle and she didn't make it. I know what you're going through and all I can offer is to listen - and some good whiskey of course."

"Henry."

"Sorry?" Robin takes a sip from his glass, waiting for her reaction, which comes pronto.

This cannot be a coincidence. She's confused, surely she hasn't mentioned her father's name _or_ her last name, how, how… "You said Henry. I never mentioned my father's name. How do you know my father?"

"Henry was a very good customer of mine, Regina. Not only that. We met him in the hospital when Marian was sick and he helped me with the business after her death. The whiskey barrels were his idea. He helped pick them out and so much more. I owe him, Regina. He was so generous, kind…"

"He was the best."

"To Henry," Robin proposes as he lifts his glass up in the air, waiting for Regina to do the same. For the first time in what feels like forever her lips curl into a soft smile. They clink their glasses, take a long sip each and she devours the taste of her father's favorite whiskey. It tastes silky and caressing, like a soft touch on her tongue. She loves that it's sweet at first before releasing a full bunch of spices; ginger, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg before developing dark chocolate and orange peel flavors. Yes, this is all her father, this is everything he loved and was.

"I miss him," Regina murmurs, hold the cool glass of whiskey to her cheek and closes her eyes. She feels a tear drop out from under her lashes, which gets caught between the glass and her cheek. No, no, no, she won't cry, not here, not in front of Robin.

"You'll always miss him in a way. He was your father, Regina. And from what I can tell, he loved you very much. He talked about you all the time. You made him proud."

"Funny, he never spoke of you." There's a hint of sarcasm in her voice because she finds it a little unfair to be speaking to someone who apparently knows a lot about her but who has never been mentioned by her father before. That's when she realizes that most of the time, her father wanted to know what she was doing whenever they talked or met each other. Henry had always avoided talking about himself, which was one of the reasons why she hadn't been up to date with his health condition.

"I feel like I failed him. I wasn't there when he died, I let him down. I never visited him up here…"

"Don't say things like this, Regina. He loved you more than anything, told everyone about you. I think he's happy to know you're here now drinking his favorite whiskey, thinking of him."

"Tell me about him," Regina begged, suddenly desperate to know everything about her father's life up here, the life she never shared, the life she missed because she's been too busy.

"I'd love to." So he tells her.

He tells her about how he first came to this town about six years ago with his wife Marian, a crime novel writer who'd had a bit of success in England but who needed a change of scenery for her next novel and when she stumbled across Storybrooke she just knew that's where she had to go in order to write her next book, the one she never finished because they discovered she was sick. An aggressive form of cancer that left them with daily hospital visits. That's where they met Henry, Henry, who'd been so kind and supportive, who'd inspired Marian to write when she was feeling down after the hard and exhausting treatments. He used to proofread Marian's things, offered advice, and they spent hours together brainstorming, which left Robin a bit jealous from time to time. But Marian would say he would get to read it once it was finished and well, he was fine with that. As long as she was happy. And there was a moment; a moment when he thought the stars were in their favor when they found out Marian was pregnant, a few months after a successful treatment. Their luck didn't last though and they had to choose. Treatment or the child.

Regina sucks in a breath, her heart aching for Robin who might have just told her one of the most heartbreaking stories she ever heard. Her brain is a bit fuzzy due to all the whiskey (they moved on to the fourth sample by now and Robin means _very_ well by filling her glass at least an inch. She's not drunk, pleasantly buzzed because of the comfortable warmth in the shop and the old leather armchair she's sitting on. She can see her father helping Marian with her ideas and stories; he's always been a bit of a storyteller himself. His calm, deep voice, the way it transfers the words from paper to speech… she always loved listening to him, has carved his stories when she was still a child. Child, that's the keyword.

"How did you decide?"

Robin drains the last bit of his glass before he sets it down on the table, looking her right into the eyes. She can't make out their color in the dim light, but they are probably more blue than green, a light shade, a shade to get lost in.

"I didn't. Marian did. She picked Roland, because she said it might be her last chance at having a child. She died when he was three month old."

"Robin I'm so sorry." Regina is reaching for his hand, which rests upon the armrest of his chair, maybe ten inches away from her. She wouldn't be doing this if she was completely sober, wouldn't be touching a stranger just like this, but she's just lost her father and he's lost his wife and she knows how it feels, knows how hard it must be on him still because every time he looks at his son he might be reminded of his wife. How can she not sympathize with him, with the man who seems to have known her father better than she did?

There's that tiny bit of jealousy flaring up inside of her, the little green eyed monster who can't believe her father never told her about all of this, about the people who surrounded him here, who were there for him more than his own daughter. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth (maybe it's the whiskey, she cannot possibly tell) and it makes her sad but at the same time happy that his life here wasn't as lonely as she always thought it was. That Henry had friends, people who cared about him, who were there for him when she wasn't.

"It's okay," Robin whispers, squeezing her hand, as his thumb starts to slowly rub circles on the back of her hand. It's comforting, that bit of human touch, of intimacy and she realizes except for an awkward apologetic hug from Sidney after the message of Henry's death, she hasn't had any form of human contact at all. Robin continues, his voice melodic and calming, which reminds her so much of her father it almost hurts. He continues to tell her about the birth of his son, about how hard it was for both of them after Marian died and how Henry helped them set up the liquor shop and distillery. How he got the idea? Well, it had been an idea of Marian's, one of the places in her book. He felt like the shop kept her a little bit alive, still.

"She loved to sit in these armchairs with Henry and go crazy about plot twists and ideas. He gave them to her as a gift, told her they were no use for him. Actually, you picked just the one he always used to sit in."

Regina's hand goes stiff as she redraws it from Robin's caressing touch. It's warm, the place where his thumb used to caress her skin is still tickling a little but she needs to hug herself for a moment, needs to stand up and look at the armchair she's been sitting on. She should have known, they seemed oddly familiar, but on the other hand how should she know?

"I…"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have told you that."

"No, I… it's fine. I was sure I remembered them from somewhere, but I never thought… We used to sit together in these chairs and he would tell me stories. He was always a great storyteller, much like your Marian must have been."

Robin chuckles. "That's probably why they got along so well. I'm more of the practical guy, but Marian, she saw a story in everyone and everything. It's a shame you never met. Henry always talked about you when he wasn't busy plotting with Marian. More whiskey?"

It's a welcome distraction, one that offers her space and a moment to be alone with her thoughts while he takes another pair of glasses from the counter to pour them something from the third barrel to the left on the upper shelf. Regina musters the armchairs, memories flashing up. Good memories, only ever good memories, her father had made sure of that. She can see him sitting here, talking to Marian, helping her with her story and for a moment she wonders, she wonders if…

"Robin?"

"Yeah?" He's just about to pour the whiskey into the glasses when he hears her soft sultry voice and the way she says his name, rolls the 'r', it's… making him shiver.

"Marian's book, the one she talked about with my father. Can I read it?" It's a lot to ask, she knows, and she's been imposing enough, she should be going home with her whiskey but she doesn't want to leave because being here makes her feel so much closer to her father.

"It's not finished," Robin answers and he's going to say no to her, she just knows it. Why shouldn't he? She's just a stranger asking him a huge favor, but the whiskey is making her feel way too comfortable in his presence and she wants to read whatever Marian wrote with the input of her father. They should stop drinking, they really should, no, she should be _going_ , that's what she should do. So when Robin gives her a long look before he puts the glasses down and tells her "I'll be just a moment," she's more than surprised.

It doesn't take him long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes to come back before he hands her an envelope with a manuscript, its edges clearly worn from extensive reading. _Untitled_ by Marian Elaine Locksley. _To my love, my gift, my muse and his princess._

She's trying to breathe, looking desperately for air as she reads the dedication in the beginning of the book, because it's her. _His princess_ , that's her, that's what he used to call her even when she was grown up and no little girl anymore. He told her she would always be his princess, no matter what. Now Regina can't hold back the tears, now it's over. She clutches the paper tight to her chest, completely forgets that she might ruin the pages as the tears start streaming down her face, drop after hot salty drop, running down her cheek, leaving a cool wet stream behind. A desperate sob comes out of her throat and all of a sudden she feels someone pull the manuscript away from her, feels herself being wrapped into a tight hug, the smell of wood and forest and man surrounding her.

Why this is the thing to finally break her she doesn't know, but it does, it makes her realize that her father is no longer there, is no longer in this world and she will never see him again. She's alone, she doesn't have anyone and why has she only ever listened to her mother's stupid " _You don't need love, love is weakness!_ " speeches when all she wants is to not be alone? Maybe the alcohol in her system is overdramatizing everything, because she does have friends, she has Mal but Mal has her own problems and… Yeah, there her list stops. Oh, and then there's her mother… who's furious with her and will make her life hell once she's back.

Robin is caressing her hair, is murmuring comforting words as she continues to sob into his shirt, feeling stupid and thankful at the same time that he's there, a person she doesn't really know but has built a connection with tonight because of her father. Although she shouldn't be doing it, her makeup will be ruined, not to speak of his shirt, which is currently absorbing her tears, she wraps her arms around him so she can bury her face further inside his shoulder. Comfort, all she wants is comfort and when was the last time she's been hugged like this? When was the last time someone held her tight and caressed her hair in the way Robin does now? She can't even remember the last time she cried this hard with someone else being there. Regina Mills wasn't a person to cry, to show weakness to anyone. Usually, she mourns silently and behind closed doors with no one coming too close to her. Today is different though, today she feels like she finally found someone who understands her.

"It's okay, Regina."

"I miss him so much." It's a muffled sob he barely understands and he feels for her, feels so sorry, because he knows what she went through, knows what Henry has told him, about Cora manipulating Regina. He remembers the nights the older man sat here, telling him about his princess, about her good heart and pure nature and about what her mother was doing to her. He often reproached himself for not fighting harder for her, told Robin about all the regrets he had when it came to her but that he loved her with every fiber of his being. Every time Henry came back from visiting her he'd been so happy and sad at the same time.

"I miss him, too. Your father was one of the most genuine and generous people I ever met. He helped me to get over Marian's death, he was somewhat of a grandfather to my son; he gave me the money I needed to start this place. He was a man who cared deeply about everyone, _especially_ his family." Regina is crying even harder now because she knows her father was a good person, the _best_ person. Hearing about all the amazing things he did which she doesn't know of hurts her on such a deep level and makes her wonder what a cruel, disinterested person she must have been.

The knot in her chest tightens and she can't breathe, she needs to breathe, but all the guilt is weighing so heavily on her shoulders, it's taking her breath away. Robin is there though, presses her tightly against him, before his hands move to her shoulders to push her softly back.

"Regina. Regina, look at me please." He waits for her to move, waits until he can cup her cheeks with both his hands and wipe away the tears with his thumbs. "I know I told you this before, but you were _everything_ to your father."

"I disappointed him. I was never there!" She's desperate, her mind running in circles, telling her what a bad daughter she was and it's her mother's voice, it's her mother telling her these things. Air, air, she needs to breathe.

"No you were everything but a disappointment to him. He was _so_ proud of you. You were everything he ever talked about and you made him _so_ happy, Regina. Every time you found the time to call him, every time you found the time to meet up with him. It was not easy for both of you Regina, but never doubt that you always will be the thing he loved most. You were his princess, you were his everything. That won't ever change."

"He never talked about you. You were such a huge part of his life and he never said a word."

"That's because when he was with you he only ever focused on you, because you were the most important thing."

"I should have come here sooner. I… I was going to surprise him this Christmas, but then…" Her voice breaks and she closes her eyes to stop further tears from falling.

"He would have loved it," Robin assures her, pulling her close to his chest once again. This time she can control her tears but she's exhausted, so physically and emotionally exhausted and there's still no air. The whiskey in her system isn't helping to control her emotions. She planned on getting drunk all by herself, not together with the owner of the liquor shop who turned out to be a close friend of her father's.

"I wasn't there when he died." She's going to hyperventilate; she's going to pass out…

"Regina! Breathe!" He's shaking her head now, maybe a bit roughly, but it loosens the knot inside her chest and finally, finally she can take a deep breath of air which fills her lungs and makes her feel a thousand times better. She blinks, once, twice, the dark and destroying thoughts one after the other leaving her mind, leaving her finally alone. Slowly, her hands grab his wrists like a lifeline to hold onto and for the first time she sees the deep dark blue of his eyes mixed with a bit of grey, like an ocean to get lost in. They're filled with worry, filled with concern. No one has ever looked at her like this, no one has ever cared, no one except her father.

"Would it help you if I told you I was there, that I was with him?"

Regina still doesn't know what to say, the intimacy of the situation much too overwhelming at this moment, but as his words become clearer, as she finally realizes what he just said, she manages a nod. It does help. The thought her father hasn't been alone when he died, that he had someone who cared for him with him is appeasing, takes some weight off her shoulders.

"I don't know how to thank you."

"It's fine. You're most welcome," Robin whispers back and before his brain can tell him to let Henry's princess go, he pulls her into a comforting hug once again. He remembers what Henry told him, about Regina's cold-hearted mother, about all the pressure and how she must have locked her heart somewhere deep inside her chest so no one could ever get close to it. For a moment he wonders if he should tell her what he promised Henry on his deathbed, but she's not ready for it. Maybe tomorrow, maybe another day.

When he lets her go, Regina manages the tiniest of smiles. It makes her feel better, now that she told someone, now that it is all out in the open. Robin is so understanding, so wonderful. Although she wishes she could have been there for her father, she's glad Robin had been. When her eyes fall to his shirt, which is smudged with black wet spots from her eyeliner, tears and mascara she starts to feel a bit embarrassed. Panda eyes aren't her favorite thing to wear, especially not with puffy watery eyes and red cheeks.

What she did to deserve meeting a sweet attentive man like Robin on Christmas Eve of all days she doesn't know, but as if he can read her thoughts he asks if she would like to use the restroom. Regina agrees, feels a bit dizzy from the alcohol and crying as she reaches for the hand he offers in order to help her up. He waits until she's steady on her own two feet before he leads her to some kind of storage back room where a small restroom is located.

"I'm sorry, the door doesn't lock, but I promise no one will come in." The embarrassed smile he gives her makes her lips twitch and she tells him not to worry about it, she can handle it and it's only to wash up anyway.

Once she's alone, Regina turns on the tap, waiting for the water to reach the right cooling temperature she wants, before she splashes some into her face. It is only after she repeats the movement three more times, rubbing frantically along her eyes in order to get rid of the remnants that she dares to take a look in the mirror. The sight horrifies her deeply. For a moment, she feels a bit ashamed Robin saw her like this, but oh well there's nothing she can do, other than clean up and face him again, right?

It takes a bit until she feels presentable again. The cool water in her face has definitely helped her to calm down, as has one of the breathing exercises she learned in yoga class (the one she goes to once a month, but oh well, she's a busy woman!). When she emerges from the tiny unlockable bathroom, Robin is already waiting for her, her coat in his arms. Of course he would kick her out now, what has she been thinking? She's taken up enough of his time.

It surprises her when he waits until she slips inside the jacket before asks: "Would you like to take a walk?"

Regina blinks, once, twice, wonders if he's serious, but he's about to shrug on his own coat and a small green scarf, smiling genuinely at her as he does it. Who is she to say no? He will probably just walk her back to her father's house; make sure she will get home all right. It's sweet of him, like everything he does and for a moment she wonders why he does all of this. Maybe it's because of her father, maybe it's because he likes her. Now, the latter seems a little far-fetched, but they _do_ have chemistry… or simply too much whiskey?

Robin waits for Regina to button up her coat, asks her if she would like a pair of gloves, but no, she's okay and she can put her hands inside her pockets, there's no need to. Her fingers feel a bit numb and disoriented, so she blushes when Robin lets out a laugh and steps over to help her with the buttons. Despite the fact that he's had at least as much whiskey as her, his movements seem much more controlled. When he takes her scarf to sling it around her neck, she giggles. God when was the last time she actually _giggled_? It seems to amuse Robin, because he laughs as well, tapping the tip of her nose with his index. "You okay?"

"I will be."

She grabs her purse, wonders if she should ask him what to pay him because she drank all the whiskey and is now leaving without having purchased anything. It's rude, she doesn't normally do this, feels a bit like she's taking advantage. But her brain is getting a bit fuzzy now that she's all wrapped up like a cozy burrito, so they should get going or the heat will get her even more drunk.

Her body always takes a bit of time to process the alcohol but the feeling of pleasant tipsiness is slowly fading into more of a drunken state. Hopefully, the walk home will sober her up, it usually does.

"Regina, look!" Robin is opening the door for them and she looks outside, surprised that while they've been sitting in his cozy warm liquor shop, the snow has turned the outside world into a winter wonderland. The streets and pavements are covered with powdery snow, sparkling in the orange light of the street lanterns. It's all untouched, no footprints, no tire tracks disturbing the pretty picture of Main Street, and why would there? It's Christmas Eve, no one is driving around, and everyone is at home.

They step outside into the cold air, their breaths turning into small puffs of smoke. For a moment Regina wishes she had a hat or something to cover her ears because she'll get cold easily. The walk home won't take long though, fifteen, maybe twenty minutes from where she is now. Damn, she really should have worn different shoes, but oh well, it's a lesson she has to learn. In case Robin sees her stilting through the six-inch high snow he doesn't say anything. Instead he asks her to wait so he can lock down behind them before he comes up to offer her his arm for balance.

Although Regina likes to be her proud, independent self, today is the exception for everything. Thankfully, she loops her arm through his, surprised at the stability and safety he provides. She feels more coordinated now, lets Robin navigate them down the pavement and his happy that he doesn't seem to mind how she leans in on him.

They're quiet now, enjoying the silence that surrounds them, walking down the silent street. From time to time another snowflake seems to find its way down from the sky, but it has mostly stopped snowing. The kids will be happy tomorrow, will be delighted to run outside to build snowmen and take the walk over to Firefly Hill to use their sledges.

"Is the lake frozen over?" Regina asks, licking her cold, dry lips with her tongue.

"I think it is, but the ice is not thick enough to skate on just yet. Why? Do you enjoy ice skating?"

"I did as a kid," she answers, remembering the pair of ice skates she got when she was five. She'd been practicing all summer with her rollerblades because daddy had told her it was important to have a good balance as an ice skater. "Unfortunately after my mother and I moved away, there was not much with ice-skating anymore. Also, I feel like I'm a bit too clumsy - especially now, drunk and all." Robin lets out a short laugh, mumbling something to himself and she can swear she picked up the word 'adorable' but of course she can't be sure of it.

They walk down Main Street, turn left at one point and Regina is not sure where they're going since her house is in the other direction.

"Where are you taking me?" There's curiosity in her voice, a bit of insecurity - for all she knows he could be a murderer or could have given her all the whiskey just to… What the hell was she thinking?

Robin stops as he sees the panic flaming up in her eyes, suddenly remembers that he knows all about her through Henry, but she only knows so much about him. Right before she's about to detangle their arms, Robin stops walking. "I was thinking about doing a short walk along the lake and then do a loop back to Henry's house. We don't have to do that if it makes you feel uncomfortable though of course."

The mentioning of going back to her father's home makes her a bit sad, but it's okay, she's fine, she's an adult.

"Could we go to the cemetery instead?" Regina asks and where the hell did that come from? "I would like to wish my father a Merry Christmas." Stupid. Stupid, drunk Regina, she is scolding herself now, scolding herself for her loose tongue and not thinking before she says something. She does want to go though, otherwise she wouldn't have asked. Once again it'll make her an emotional wreck, but oh well, it's not like Robin hasn't seen her cry already today. In fact, Robin is probably the only man who's seen her cry - excluding Henry of course.

"Are you sure?" He's just asking because he's worried, Regina can hear it in his voice. Robin knows she's drunk despite her mind starting to clear up a tiny little bit. Sweet. He's being sweet and attentive. Again.

"Yes I am sure. I want to see my father's grave." There are a million reasons why he could say no: it's dark, it's late, the cemetery is probably closed, she's drunk, she's overwhelmed - hasn't she cried enough today? Though Robin doesn't say no, doesn't decline her wish, instead he just nods before leading her down the way to the cemetery.

The cemetery is closed; the huge lock on the gate clearly wants to keep them out. Devastation isn't the right word to describe what she's feeling because she should have known better. So she won't be able to see her father tonight. Unless… Unless… She's giggling, doesn't really know why, but the thought that just crossed her mind makes her laugh. Breaking into a cemetery is the last thing she thought she'd get arrested while doing.

Carefully she walks over to inspect the wall next to the gate. It's not that high, with a bit of help…

"Robin! Come here. Help me up…"

"What are you doing, Regina?" He watches her taking off her heels, throwing them over the wall to the other side where they vanish in the snow. "Regina, your shoes for god's sake! You could just wait for me to pick…"

"Help me up, before my toes freeze off! Give me a boost!" Her hands are grabbing the edge of the wall while she's waiting for him to help her. Well, her feet are getting really cold now. Maybe she shouldn't have thrown her shoes away so soon. "Robin!"

"I'm here." Oh, yes, he is, he's right next to her, leaning against the wall, amusement in his eyes. His hands have formed some kind of swing, waiting for her to put one foot inside in order to give her a lift. Regina does so, one hand on his shoulder for balance, the other on the wall to give herself a lift. His hands are warm, his hold is strong.

"Regina, if you would just give me a minute…"

"Come on, Robin. Ready? On three. One, two…" She breaks out in laughter right before he is able to give her the lift, but he does it anyways, which makes her struggle a lot. The situation is so awkward and the fact she can't really coordinate her body isn't helping the least bit. She's hanging against the wall now, her arms too weak to hoist herself up while Robin keeps push, push, pushing her feet up.

"Push, Robin!" She's giggling.

"What do you think I'm doing Regina? You have to pull yourself up as well!"

"I can't! My arms… I have to laugh. Aaaah!"

He's changed the hold on her foot now and she's slipping down again, but there's a hand right under her butt which is now pushing her higher up, and…

"Are you really grabbing my ass?"

"I'm giving you a lift, woman. Now pull yourself up. Wait, I'll help you with the other leg…"

"Push, Robin!"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

He's pushing her leg to the side so she can somewhat roll herself onto the cornice. It's awkward but they manage somehow with a lot of laughter, awkward touching and pushing. Regina is breathless, can't control her laughter and instead of jumping down on the other side of the wall, she lies on the cornice laughing.

"Do you need help to get down?" his amused voice asks from the other side of the wall inside the cemetery. He's holding out a hand, has collected her shoes, which are standing just beside him.

"How did you get in there?" What the fuck?

"I was trying to tell you, if you would just give me a moment, but you wanted to climb the damn wall."

"Did you just pick the lock?"

"There was a certain time in my life where I picked up a few useful tricks on the way, along with some pockets."

"So you're a thief." It's not a question, it's a statement. One that makes him smile shyly up at her, something she can only see because the snow is so bright they don't need any light to see.

"You know picking locks is illegal."

"I imagine climbing the wall like you just did is illegal as well." Touché.

She's sitting up now, her legs dangling down the wall, arms crossed in front of her chest. "You could have told me you knew another way to get in here."

"I was trying to, but you wanted to climb the damn wall. If you'd just listened…"

"So now it's my fault."

"I'm just saying if you'd waited for a tiny moment…"But Regina isn't listening, instead he sees her getting ready to jump. The wall isn't so high it could be considered dangerous, but the ground is uneven and there are stones underneath and if she jumps the wrong way she might hurt herself. He reaches his hand out once again, but she's stubborn. Why does this woman have to be so goddamn stubborn all the time? She's going to jump, she's…

He launches forward as she lets go, tries to catch her, but his feet slip in the snow, so he catches her, but slips to the side. Regina is by no means heavy, but still they lose their balance. There's a shriek, limbs tangling and a thud when they both land in the snow.

Robin groans, his back is hurting, but he's glad he managed to turn them so she would fall on top of him and not into the cold snow, hitting her head on a stone or the ground or somewhere dangerous.

"You okay?" he breathes, surprised at how close she is, her hot breath ghosting over his face. The tips of their noses are almost touching. She's pretty, oh so pretty up close and these deep dark eyes are something to get lost in. The smell of whiskey is clearly noticeable, but he likes it, wonders if he'd taste the nuances on her tongue…

"You let me fall!" There's accusation in her eyes.

"You dragged me down with you, I was just trying to help you, woman!"

"I didn't ask for your help." Leave it to Regina to be completely illogical about it. Accusing him of not helping and then telling him she didn't want help in the first place.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice, you know?"

"You're insufferable!"

"You're gorgeous when you're mad." Wait, where did that come from? He had not given his mouth the permission to say those things out loud. Damn the whiskey for giving him a loose tongue. Her cheeks are so red from the cold he doesn't know if she's blushing, but he can feel her fist bumping against his chest in an attempted smack.

"Oh shut up."

"Make me." So she does.

Regina closes the small gap between them with their noses bumping into each other. His skin is comfortably warm - how does he do this, always be warm, comfy and someone she just wants to snuggle up with? She lets out a grunted sound, half laugh, half moan as her cold lips meet his. It feels like she's melting as the heat starts prickling in her lips and it's a good feeling, so good.

There's soft pressure against her lips as well, pressure which makes her happy because Robin is kissing her back, he's not being a cold brick on the ground. Regina is nibbling his lower lip, hates herself for feeling so sloppy at this, blames the alcohol for it, can feel Robin grinning into the kiss as two strong arms wrap around her to hold her in place while he starts careful nibbling on his own. His hot breath and scruff are tickling the sensitive skin of her face, making her wonder what it would feel like between her thighs. It's the reason why she finally opens her mouth to let his begging tongue slip inside.

Regina moans, can feel his arms tighten around her and oh, his tongue is magic, it's caressing and velvety and so very talented. He's tasting like the whiskey they drank last, only faintly so, but she can still taste it. Maybe it's because she's drunk, but kissing him is better than all the whiskeys in the world and she's sure he could make her get drunk with his kisses only. More, Regina wants more and more and please can this moment never end?

So it doesn't matter that she's cold, that he's freezing, because being pressed close against Robin, kissing him like this, like she's never been kissed before is the best thing that happened tonight. He's gentle, he's caring, for some reason he knows exactly what she needs. How does he do this? She could ask herself over and over again. Her reactions switch between moans and soft giggles and there's this sound Robin makes when she sucks at his tongue that makes her heart squeeze. It's a sweet kiss, close to the verge of getting more - Regina could see herself wanting more, but this is not the right time, this is the heat of the moment of being drunk, grieving and having just broken into a cemetery. But it's still a bit awkward because their noses keep bumping into each other or whenever they take a second for a breath, their lips are just a tiny bit off before they find their way back to each other.

It's Robin who finally puts an end to it. She can feel him pull back with every movement, tries to keep the contact, but suddenly his hands cup her face so lovingly she has to open her eyes. There's panic flaring up in her once again, though Robin is quick to assure her nothing is wrong.

"I don't regret this, Regina." Thank god, thank god he doesn't since she doesn't either. "Frankly, I wish I could kiss you forever…" Then why did you stop, idiot? "But I don't think this is the right place. Also, you should finally put some shoes on, otherwise your toes will freeze off."

Leave it to Robin to be so damn considerate of her health and feelings. She sighs, which makes him chuckle before she climbs off him in order to slip on her heels. Her feet hurt, are very cold and maybe he's right, maybe if they'd continued her toes would have frozen off before she realized it.

Things between them aren't awkward but not as light as they were before. Robin pulls her to his side as they make their way down the second row of graves and stop right in front of the second from the right. An electric red light is burning and she can see the outlines of floral wreaths, which are covered by the snow. She should come back tomorrow, she thinks, should bring her father some flowers because it's the right thing to do.

For some reason seeing his grave doesn't make her as upset as she would have thought. She doesn't feel the need to cry - probably because she's cried so much today there are just no tears left. When Robin asks her if she wants to be alone for a moment she shakes her head. So they stand there for a hand full of minutes in silence, Regina having her eyes closed and Robin rubbing her back with his hand.

_I'm sorry, Daddy._

Her father had always tried to make sure she was okay. Henry was no more though, but at least she found… When the realization hits her, Regina can't but look up at Robin who's staring at Henry's grave, a soft but sad expression on his face. Robin. This right here, them meeting, her bumping into his shop tonight… was it coincidence or fate? What are the odds she would bump into the man who seemed to have had such a close relationship to her father, maybe closer than she had on the night she comes back to Storybrooke?

The man in question breaks her train of thought when his hand comes to a rest on his back.

"You're getting cold, Regina. You're shivering."

"I don't want to go home." She doesn't feel drunk anymore, just cold.

"Why?"

"I don't want to be alone tonight." It's not more than a whisper and she's not sure if he heard her until he pulls her close to him, waiting for her to look up into his eyes.

"Then you don't have to be. Come on… and no awkward wall climbing this time."

How does he always manage to do this, to make her smile? Regina wonders as they head back toward the liquor shop. They don't talk much, just a few bits here and there.

Once they arrive, Robin guides her around the house to the back door, which leads right up the stairs to the living room on the first floor. It's lit, decorated with a real Christmas tree that looks a bit chaotic, just like a child had hung the ornaments and lights. Presents are lying under the tree, not many, but a few, all having a tag with _'Roland'_ in big black letters. Roland, of course, Robin's son.

"No worries, he's asleep. Look, I'll show you my bedroom upstairs and I'll get the couch ready for myself…"

"No. Robin, I don't want to kick you out of your bed. You've already done enough for me."

"It's not a problem…"

"It is one for me. Please. I'll be out of your hair first thing in the morning."

There is a moment when he hesitates, when it looks like he's going to continue arguing with her, but oh, she can be stubborn and she's going to take the damn couch, she's not going to kick this man out of his bed. She wonders if after the kiss they shared he's going to offer her to sleep in his bed, but he doesn't. Whether it's a pang of disappointment or pure exhaustion she feels right now, she can't say. Regina can see how he rings with himself before he finally gives in. Good, there's no point in arguing with her anyway.

"Can I at least offer you some clothes to sleep in?"

"I would appreciate that, thank you."

After she drops her purse, scarf and coat down on the couch, Robin guides her upstairs, shows her the bathroom and the shower before asking her to wait outside because well, his room is a bit of a mess. Regina rolls her eyes a little. Of course it is he's a man, but she doesn't mind a bit messy as long as it's not dirty. There's a huge difference. He comes back out with a dark green hooded sweater and gray sweatpants that are way too big for her. There are bands to tighten them though and it's just for the night anyway. The thick pair of socks that come along with the things he brings out makes her smile, because her feet are still freezing. Thoughtful, Robin is so goddamn thoughtful and considerate.

While he lets her go and change in the bathroom, even tells her there's a fresh towel and brand new toothbrush in the cabinet above the basin, he's downstairs making her bed for the night. The couch looks actually a bit small, but she's not a tall person, so she thinks she might be comfortable for the night when she comes back down.

Robin smiles shyly at her, his hands in his back pockets as he watches her small frame completely lost in his big but very comfortable clothes. The sleeves are too long, the legs as well, but she looks cute. "Here we go, I hope it's okay…"

"It's perfect. Thank you Robin… for everything tonight. I… I have to pay you back on all the whiskey I drank."

"Please don't."

"But I want to!" She's sitting down on the couch now, wrapping the blanket around herself. It's warm and smells like forest - but that's probably because of the Christmas tree or because of Robin. The clothes she's wearing smell the same… She really can't say.

"You just owe me a drink, how about that?" The question is hesitant, but when she smiles it's like a ton of baggage lifts from his shoulders.

"Deal. Goodnight, Robin. And thank you. Again." Does this mean they have a date?

"Are you sure you're okay, Regina?" He's reaching out, for a moment she thinks he might touch her shoulder but he draws back at the last moment.

"I will be." Yes, she will be, now she knows. It might take a while, but she will be okay.

"Sweet dreams," Robin whispers as he watches her getting comfortable on the couch. Regina closes her eyes and hears him leave. The light is switched off. Whether he forgets to switch off the lights on the Christmas tree as well or whether he leaves them on so the room isn't completely in the dark she doesn't know, but she appreciates the faint warming lights nonetheless. Exhaustion hits her, pulls her under into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Xxxxx

Warm. Warm and comfortable and the smell of bacon and pancakes. That's the first thing she notices when her mind starts slowly waking up from her deep slumber. There's a hint of a headache in the back of her head, but it's not bad, so she can ignore it for the moment. Something tickles her nose, and then pokes her shoulder but Regina just sighs before cuddling back into her blanket. Just five more minutes, then she might consider getting up for a glass of water and aspirin for the headache that she knows will come at one point. It's okay though, she's a grown up, she can deal with headaches - if only whatever was poking her would leave her the hell alone. Seriously.

She moves, lets out a groan, which is followed by a giggle. Wait, what? A giggle? Where the hell did that come from? Where the hell was she - what? Pancakes? Bacon? Breakfast? Oh. _OH!_

Regina cracks one eye open, blinks a bit, blinded by the bright light that is flooding the living room. This is definitely not her father's house, definitely not his couch. Right, right, memories of yesterday slowly come crawling back into her conscious mind. There was whiskey, and Robin, more whiskey, more Robin, snow, kissing… and she'd gone home with him. Oh God. Awkward, how very awkward. Leave it to her to do the walk of shame on Christmas morning. Well, she hasn't slept with him; she has nothing to be ashamed of, right? But she's kissed him… and that is making her a tiny bit uncomfortable. Not the kissing itself but the fact she's enjoyed it and doesn't regret it.

She wanted to be out of his hair, didn't want to spend Christmas morning. Now here she is, on his couch and the man is making breakfast. Is he expecting her to stay?

Another peak, another giggle and Regina finally shots up, fully awake now. There's a little boy standing in front of her dressed in forest green pajamas with little red and white candy canes on it and a stuffed monkey tucked under his arm. His curls are dark brown and wild, his dimpled smile ever charming. The first thought that strikes her is that he doesn't much look like Robin, but these dimples… the dimples are totally his. Now what is his name again? Rudolph? Ronald? No, Roland, his name is Roland.

Roland is still giggling, looking at her with wide, cheerful and happy eyes.

"Roland, what are you doing?" It's Robin in the doorway, a plastic spatula in his hand, which he's probably used to turn the pancakes and bacon before he heard noises coming from the living room.

"It's Christmas, Papa!"

Robin laughs, saying 'yes, it is' but he knows that he's not allowed to climb out of his bed by himself, knows that he should call Robin once he wakes up so they can get ready for the day. He ruffles his boy's hair, giving Regina a quick wink to acknowledge her, muttering a "Merry Christmas", which she answers with a smile and nod.

"Papa, I wanted to see if Santa brought me my present! Look, he did!" The little boy exclaims happily.

Robin's eyes wander over to the Christmas tree and the presents underneath, which makes Regina laugh, because it's just typical for a child to open all the presents without the parent being present. They're both surprised to find the presents untouched, no wrapping paper lying around. Nothing is missing from under the tree.

Regina eyes the little child which is still standing in front of her, staring at her awestruck with big, happy eyes. She notices a burnt smell coming from the kitchen, but she's afraid to say anything because Robin looks at his son with confusion and worry, crouching down next to him, asking carefully.

"Roland, what present are you talking about?"The little boy giggles once again, his arms clutching the monkey tight to his small body.

"I asked Santa for a new Mama! And look, there she is!" He's laughing, launching himself at Regina now, who can't but catch the little man who is hugging her as tight as he can. "I'm Roland!"

She doesn't reply, her tongue is heavy as lead.

Robin's eyes are wide in shock, his mouth slightly opened, not knowing what to say at the scene that just unfolded in front of him. They don't know what to say, just stare at each other, watching the uncomfortable situation unfold in front of them.

It's Regina who finds her speech back first, still holding the babbling and overly enthusiastic child in her arms. "I think your breakfast is burning."

"Oh bloody hell!" He darts off to the kitchen, leaving his son and Regina alone in the living room.

This is not how either one of them has imagined Christmas morning. Not at all.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OQ Advent Day 6 
> 
> Merry Christmas to all of you lovely people out there! I hope you spend your days with laughter, guy, cookies and hot cocoa. Please don't let the gift shopping and business of this time of the year ruin your mood. Find a quiet moment for yourself every day, preferably with the OQ Advent calendar gifts.  
> This year's page looks simply amazing! The girls have done such great work and we are all blessed to have such talented young women work hard for our fandom and to keep the OQ spirit alive.  
> I am so happy to tell you that I was allowed to continue last year's OQ Advent Calendar story "Liquor Love". You do not necessarily have to read the first chapter again, as I have given you a quick and accurate summary on what happened down below. For those who want to reread anyways: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12264195/1/Liquor-Love. A huge thank you goes out to the people who have helped me get through this. Miles who put up with my tantrums, Alex the most fabulous beta of all times, Shay and TreNesha! You're all so wonderful! Thank you!  
> Now I hope all of you enjoy yet another day on the short journey to Christmas.  
> Happy Holidays everyone, and much love,
> 
> Eva

**Previously on Liquor Love:**

_After the news of her father's death, Regina decides to throw her mother's Christmas plans in LA over board. Instead, she drives up to Storybrooke, Maine, where she lived for the first six years of her life, before her mother decided to rip her away from her beloved father on the day before Christmas twenty seven years ago. Regina is exhausted from the drive and being back in Storybrooke after all this time is a more emotional affair than she first thought it would be. So, she decides to drown her sorrow in a bottle of whiskey. A store called "Merry Spirits" run by a certain Robin Locksley, is her destination. Her original plan consists of buying a bottle and be out, however Robin invites her to a whiskey tasting and during their talk, it turns out Robin knew her father very well. Things get emotional and awkward when Robin takes her for a walk in the snow to her father's grave on the cemetery. Because of Regina's clumsiness when it comes to climbing the cemetery wall, they topple over and kiss. When she is about to go home to her father's house, Regina decides she does not want to be alone on Christmas Eve, so Robin invites her to stay over on the couch at his place._

* * *

 

 

**Liquor Love II**

 

Warmth. Warmth and comfort and the smell of bacon and pancakes. That's the first thing she notices when her mind starts slowly waking up from her deep slumber. There's a hint of a headache in the back of her head, but it's not bad, so she can ignore it for the moment. Something tickles her nose, and then pokes her shoulder, but Regina just sighs before cuddling back into her blanket. Just five more minutes, then she might consider getting up for a glass of water and aspirin for the headache that she knows will come at one point. It's okay though, she's a grown up, she can deal with headaches - if only whatever was poking her would leave her the hell alone. Seriously.

She moves, lets out a groan, which is followed by a giggle. Wait, what? A giggle? Where the hell did that come from? Where the hell was she - what? Pancakes? Bacon? Breakfast? Oh. _OH!_

Regina cracks one eye open, blinks a bit, blinded by the bright light that is flooding the living room. This is definitely not her father's house, definitely not his couch. Right, right, memories of yesterday slowly come crawling back into her conscious mind. There was whiskey, and Robin, more whiskey, more Robin, snow, kissing… and she'd gone home with him. Oh God. Awkward, how very awkward. Leave it to her to do the walk of shame on Christmas morning. Well, she hasn't slept with him; she has nothing to be ashamed of, right? But she's kissed him… and that is making her a tiny bit uncomfortable. Not the kissing itself but the fact she's enjoyed it and doesn't regret it. 

She wanted to be out of his hair, didn't want to spend Christmas morning. Now here she is, on his couch and the man is making breakfast. Is he expecting her to stay?

Another poke, another giggle and Regina finally shoots up, fully awake now. There's a little boy standing in front of her dressed in forest green pajamas decorated with little red and white candy canes, and a stuffed monkey tucked under his arm. His curls are dark brown and wild, his dimpled smile ever charming. The first thought that strikes her is that he doesn't look much like Robin, but these dimples… the dimples are totally his. Now what is his name again? Rudolph? Ronald? No, Roland, his name is Roland.

Roland is still giggling, looking at her with wide, happy eyes.

"Roland, what are you doing?" It's Robin in the doorway, a plastic spatula in his hand, which he's probably used to turn the pancakes and bacon before he heard noises coming from the living room.

"It's Christmas, Papa!"

Robin laughs, saying 'yes, it is' but he knows that he's not allowed to climb out of his bed by himself, knows that he should call Robin once he wakes up so they can get ready for the day. He ruffles his boy's hair, giving Regina a quick wink to acknowledge her, muttering a "Merry Christmas", which she answers with a smile and nod.

"Papa, I wanted to see if Santa brought me my present! Look, he did!" The little boy exclaims happily.

Robin's eyes wander over to the Christmas tree and the presents underneath, which makes Regina laugh, because it's just typical for a child to open all the presents without the parent being present. They're both surprised to find the presents untouched, no wrapping paper lying around. Nothing is missing from under the tree.

Regina eyes the little child that is still standing in front of her, staring at her awestruck with big, happy eyes. She notices a burnt smell coming from the kitchen, but she's afraid to say anything because Robin looks at his son with confusion and worry, crouching down next to him, asking carefully.

"Roland, what present are you talking about?" The little boy giggles once again, his arms clutching the monkey tight to his small body.

"I asked Santa for a new Mama! And look, there she is!" He's laughing, launching himself at Regina now, who can't help but catch the little man who is hugging her as tight as he can. "I'm Roland!"

She doesn't reply, her tongue is heavy as lead.

Robin's eyes are wide with shock, his mouth slightly opened, not knowing what to say at the scene that just unfolded in front of him. They don't know what to say, just stare at each other, letting the awkwardness of the situation rise.

It's Regina who gets her power of speech back first, still holding the babbling and overly enthusiastic child in her arms. "I think your breakfast is burning."

"Oh bloody hell!" He darts off to the kitchen, leaving his son and Regina alone in the living room.

This is not how either one of them has imagined Christmas morning. Not at all.

Xxxxx

For the first six years of her life, Regina Mills remembers Christmas as something warm. As the smell of cinnamon and vanilla everywhere, the joy when daddy would set up the Christmas tree and would hold her up high to the top so she could place her favorite ornaments everywhere. She remembers the bowl of freshly baked cookies, the home made gingerbread houses and soft tunes of Ella Fitzgerald as well as listening to 'A Charlie Brown Christmas' on a loop. There was laughter, there was joy, and there were giggles and tickles and excitement. Little Regina used to _love_ Christmas and everything that came with it… until that Christmas two months before her seventh birthday when her mother decided to leave her father and dragged her with her. Remembering these moments which have burned themselves into her childhood memory still hurts.

On Christmas, children are supposed to be happy, not disappointed like she was. On Christmas, her father and home were both ripped away from her… and now Roland thinks Santa granted him his wish of a mother. Too much, it is simply too much.

Regina doesn't know what to say and even less what to think, not when two curious brown eyes are staring up at her with a dimpled grin that would melt whole icebergs. Roland's tiny hands are clutched in the hoodie she is wearing while his monkey is resting right next to him on her lap. This is bad, really bad. She should not have slept here, at least not downstairs on the couch right next to the Christmas tree. It's no wonder Roland got the wrong impression.

Robin should have woken her the moment he got downstairs and ushered her out of his home. All this would have prevented the mess they currently find themselves in, because right now Regina cannot bring herself to put the child down and explain to him that Santa did not grant his wish. He is so genuine, babbling and babbling how excited he is and how he wants to show her his room and everything they are going to do today.

She can hear his hissing from the kitchen followed by quite creative cursing and the rumbling of a pan hitting the kitchen sink. For a mild moment she worries about his son hearing Robin's whole repertoire of curse language, which frankly she doesn't think has anything to do with the burnt bacon, but rather with her sitting on his couch and his son's Christmas wish. It is only when she feels Roland’s tiny damp hands cup her cheeks that she is finally able to wake herself out of her crazy running thoughts.

"What's your name?"

"Hm…? What?" Roland is grinning up at her, biting his lower lip with his perfect white teeth.

"What is your name? Every mommy has a name."

Oh… right. Her name. "Regina… my name is Regina."

Roland dips his head to the side looking at her curiously as if debating whether he likes the name or not. "R'giiiiinaaaa. I know. I know! I like that… and you're pretty too! Like in the pictures. Did Santa bring you here last night? Did you ride on his sleigh?" His eyes go wide in awe. "Have you seen _Rudolph_?"

Regina is at a loss for words but thankfully does not need to answer as Robin hurries back in. He throws her an apologetic look and mumbles something about burnt bacon. The man looks exhausted, his hair disheveled as if he's been tearing at it for the past five minutes, wondering what to do about the situation. Well, at least she's not alone. She should probably apologize too, get changed and leave immediately before the damage becomes irreparable.

"Regina can I talk to you for a moment…? In the kitchen please?" He walks over to the TV to turn it on, zapping through the channels until he hits Disney Channel whom are airing their Christmas special. "Roland can you watch some TV until daddy has finished breakfast? Afterwards we can unwrap the presents, okay?"

"Can R'gina watch with me?" The little boy giggles excitedly but his father shakes his head.

"Regina needs to help me in the kitchen, buddy, okay?"

Roland eyes up his father in a skeptical manner. Regina can feel how his hands clutch into her hoodie, signaling that he is not ready to let go, not ready for her to leave. Taking a deep breath, she forces a smile onto her face and nuzzles the boy's cheek with her nose. Roland grins, giggles and lets go.

"I just need to help your daddy for a bit and then I'll be right back, okay?"

"Promise?" His voice is a mixture of hope and fear. These eyes will be the death of her; that much is clear and it is even worse when his lower lip starts wobbling a tiny bit.

"Yes, I promise," Regina whispers quietly, pressing a kiss into his hair before she sets him down on the couch.

She is nervous. Her palms feel sweaty and her head hurts from the slight hangover she is nursing from the whiskey escapade the night before. The kitchen smells like burnt bacon, there is a little bit of fog too. He has opened a window to clear the air, however the smoke seems stuck in the room, making the air quite heavy to breathe in. Even though she is glad for Robin's comfort last night, she should have stuck to her initial plan: just get that bottle of whiskey and leave. Waking up with a badass hangover in her father's house seems a much better prospect right now than the confusion from this morning.

Robin gestures toward a small kitchen table with three chairs, which has a glass of water with two aspirin waiting for her. Even when he's mad, he acts attentive and sweet around her and Regina can't but smile at the thoughtfulness. Instead of sitting down, he leans against the counter opposite of her and waits until she has swallowed the pills with two big gulps.

Silence surrounds them, only disturbed by the soft noises coming from the TV next door.

"I'm sorry," they say simultaneously, both seemingly astonished by the other one's apology.

"What would _you_ be sorry for?" Robin wonders. There's a hint of disbelief on his face, which makes Regina even more nervous. Despite her earlier thoughts, he does not look mad, more… exhausted.

"I should not have come here. I… I took up all your time yesterday evening. I kissed you and asked whether I could stay here. That was completely inappropriate. And then, this morning with Roland, I… I'm sorry for the mess I've gotten you in."

A soft laugh escapes Robin. He is shaking his head, slowly taking a few steps closer and sitting down opposite her. One of her hands is still clinging to the glass of water, while her other one is nervously playing with the string of the hoodie.

"No… Regina, no. None of this is your fault. Okay, the kiss perhaps but…" He's smirking now and Regina can feel her cheeks redden slightly. "I'm not sorry it happened. It was very… I mean we… We were both a little drunk and, remember, I _asked_ you to stay and try the whiskey."

"Because you knew who I was," she mumbles not looking up and thus misses Robin's nod.

"That's true. I knew who you were and I also knew what you were feeling. I didn't want you to go over to your father's house alone and if you had not told me you didn't want to be alone, I would have suggested you sleep here for the night anyway. And about Roland…" He sighs, leaning back against the chair and rubbing his hand over his face. "I did not know about the wish. I didn't know he wanted a mother… I mean of course he misses her and I know a little boy should have a mom, but I thought I was enough, I thought I could give him everything he needed. I… I am not entirely sure how I get you out of this but I promise I will talk to him, I will explain the situation to him and…"

The next thing she says surprises her. Later, she will blame it on some of the whiskey still being left in her system but when she mumbles a quiet "don't", Robin looks up at her in surprise.

"What?"

Regina shakes her head. She takes another sip of water and puts the glass back down before she risks staring into his deep blue eyes. "Robin, did my father ever tell you about the day my mother left him?"

His eyebrow raises a tad but he shakes his head. "No… he just mentioned it was the day before Christmas."

Regina's eyes squeeze shut at the painful memory, which seems ever so present now that she is back in Storybrooke. "It was the 24th of December twenty-seven years ago. I was only six years old. My mother, she… Daddy was not home; he got up early to get the Christmas tree we wanted to decorate later that day like tradition. She came into my room and woke me up by putting a suitcase onto my bed before emptying my closet. I was not allowed to take any toys. She told me to wash myself and get dressed quickly, scolding me for not being fast enough, for not picking clothes _warm_ enough." The memory crushes over her, makes her lips quiver and eyes close.

It is the moment he reaches out to her, the moment his hand caresses hers softly with warm and soft fingers that she finds her way back to him and is able to finish the story.

"Mother, she… she dragged me down the stairs and outside. That's when Daddy came home and he just looked at her. He looked at her Robin and said _nothing_. I yelled for him, I wanted to go over but Mother told me not to make a scene, she gripped my arm so hard I had a bruise for weeks after. And then she shut the door and the car drove off to the airport." It is a wonder how she has managed not to cry until now. But then, the wound is so old, she has replayed it so many times in her head, has cried more tears over it than she can remember.

"I hated them, both of them. Mother for taking me away and Daddy for not doing anything. He never told me why. I knew he was sorry and he tried to make it up to me, but I never knew why. My heart was broken that day, Robin. Christmas has never been the same for me ever since then and my mother made sure of it. I lost my father… twice. And I'm sorry, but I will not do the same thing to Roland. Not on Christmas, of all days."

There, it's out, and god does she feel better now. Robin is still absently caressing her hand with his fingers, gone far away with his thoughts. Regina's lips curl into a small smile as she watches him think. He looks a little less exhausted, more tired and disheveled now. Bloody sexy, that is how he looks in his tight fitted shirt and loose sweatpants, if she's honest with herself. She takes his hand into hers and squeezes lightly, bringing him back to her.

"Are you saying you want to stay?" is what he asks, mildly confused. There's uncertainty in his voice for which she does not judge him.

"I could… I could stay for a week, see how it turns out? We can tell Roland that the wish he made for Christmas is only temporary, that Santa's magic has its limits." It's a stupid plan, just stupid. Regina Mills does not know how to be a mother, she is _not_ good with children - Lilly may be an exception. Hell, she has never even thought about children and the reason for it is as clear as rain: She does not want to become like Cora.

"Regina, I… I don't know what to say. Your offer is very honorable but I am not sure if I can take it. You see, I don't want Roland to get hurt."

Good. That's good. It was a stupid idea anyway. Why would he agree to let her, a complete stranger, play mother to his son? Just because he knew her father and they spent hours yesterday talking and kissing - she really needs to let this drunk escapade go - there is no reason why he should trust her. She should have known. How did she even come up with this crap? Think, Regina. Think before you talk is what her mother would tell her now. It's a ridiculous idea and he is right to shut it down. She is not good mother material anyway, she never will be.

"I'm sorry, it was a _stupid_ idea. It must be the hangover speaking, I… I should go." The brunette gets up so abruptly the chair almost falls over.

"Regina _wait!_ You didn't let me finish." But what else is there left to say? Robin is still holding onto her hand and luckily neither of them seems ready to let go. "I know I should have doubts and the only thing I'm truly afraid of is that my son will get hurt over all this, but despite everything I would like it very much if you could stay."

Wow. Now this was the last thing she expected.

Robin clears his throat before he continues. "I may have closed my eyes to the obvious, but Roland, he… I think he loves you already. He's still small, we can figure something out about the whole timing thing, make up a story how Santa only granted you a week but… I don't want my son to be disappointed on Christmas. He still believes in Santa and Christmas magic. I couldn't face his heartbreak and tell him it's not true. You're right, it would be unfair. So. Uhm… Would you?"

"Would I what?" Regina whispers quietly, looking directly at him.

"Would you stay for a week and, while you figure everything out, be a mother to my son?"

There is so much hope in his eyes it almost hurts. She should have never made this offer, should say no because, frankly, it's ridiculous, surreal. Saying no would be the smart thing to do, however, according to her mother; ever since her father died Regina has not been capable of making smart decisions. So she does the first thing that feels right in a long time.

"Yes."

His beaming smile and the grateful shimmer in his eyes erases any doubts she has talked herself into. He squeezes her hand with gratefulness as she sits back down and they work on a little story to tell Roland. When they get back into the living room, the toddler is more than excited and launches himself at Regina. Together, they sit down on the couch and turn the TV off in order to let Roland in on their little story.

The little man does not seem all too happy about the prospect of having Regina for only a week, and gives her an adorable but heartbreaking pout before he stalks over toward the Christmas tree grumpily.

"But what if I give all the presents back? Can you stay then?" Roland wonders, making his father chuckle a little.  

"I'm afraid I cannot, Roland... I… I need to talk to Santa, because, you know, I have a job, too, and... But I can promise you that for this week, it's my job to be your mommy and I'll try to do my best, okay?"

He sighs, seemingly defeated as he debates Regina's offer for a mere few seconds. "Ohkaaay."

"How about you check out what else Santa got you, buddy, hm? I think the big package over there might be that new truck you asked Santa for…"

Roland's eyes light up with excitement and he dashes forward to pull out said present from under the tree, ripping the wrapping paper apart with gusto. It reveals indeed the requested truck. Other presents reveal a brand new wooden train set with different locomotives, rails, a train station and decoration such as trees and animals.

"It's like Thomas, Papa! Look! Look it's blue like Thomas!" the little boy shrieks excitedly, bringing the boxes over to Robin and Regina so they could unpack them. Within half an hour the whole floor is covered in wrapping paper, empty cardboard boxes and parts of the train set, which Roland sticks together.

"Woah, Roland… Roland, wait a second. Before we play, we need to have breakfast, ok?" Roland looks at his father as if he's grown a second head.

Regina chuckles, rolling her eyes at him. "Do you really think he's interested in breakfast right now?"

"I'm not sure about him but _I_ am," he answers a little bit grumpily. From the clock on the wall Regina could see it was only 8:30 am.

"Roland? Hey." Roland looked up at her, clutching the blue wooden locomotive in his hand. The second she had his attention, she continued. "How about we make a deal? First, we put all the paper away and clean up a little. Then your Daddy will help you carry everything up into your room and there you can play until we call you for breakfast, okay? Even little train conductors need to eat before their shift starts, all right? Then I promise you can play with your trains all day, okay?"

"Okay!" The little boy jumps up, randomly collecting the trash from the floor up to the point where he couldn't even see where he was going because a piece of wrapping paper covered half his face.

Regina glances sideways to see Robin staring at her in awe. "What?" she asks blushing slightly. He really needs to stop looking at her like that. It's not good for either of them, not if this is supposed to work for one week.

"You got him to clean up… You, Regina Mills, truly are a Christmas gift."

She doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to answer because he needs to stop being so sweet. All she did was tell the kid what to do, fearing she was already overstepping a boundary. However, Robin doesn't seem to mind at all.

"I - uh - I would really like to take a shower if it's okay? And after breakfast I'd really like to get my suitcase from my car because as much as I like your hoodie, I don't think I can wear this for the rest of the day."

He blinks once, twice, before he finds his speech. "Of course. You remember the way to the bathroom? More towels are in the cabinet and I took the liberty to wash your sweater and pants. I hope that was okay?"

She is not going to freak out, no, she won't. Because the possibility that Robin hand washed her favorite $250 cashmere sweater in cold water is… small. Hopefully he did not put it into the dryer because that would be even worse. Perhaps it's not too bad. He's been married after all; he should know how to wash delicate clothing, right? He _is_ a man though, so Regina just gives him a tight smile, suggests he helps Roland to find the trash can before she heads upstairs into the bathroom.

The door of the dryer is open and she can see the familiar dark purple of her sweater peeking out. Merry Christmas to you, Regina.

Xxxxx

Her sweater didn't make it. It shrunk about two sizes and feels now rather tight around her body. At least Robin liked it, judging from his wide going eyes when she stepped back into the kitchen with a soft line of skin peeking out around her belly area. He apologized of course, however Regina just waved it off. Robin meant well and after everything he did for her in the past two days, she can bear to lose her favorite sweater. Still, Regina told him she would like to bring her car over and get her suitcase to change into something more comfortable. As it is just a short fifteen minute walk, Regina declines Robin's offer to let him drive her over and instead urges him to finally help his more than excited son to set up the train set in his room. They agree to go over to her father's house in the afternoon together.

He seems a bit worried about the whole thing and she wonders why. Even though she hasn't told him yet, she probably will spend the rest of the time over there instead of at his place, despite their agreement about Roland. If she can bear to be alone in the house that is.

Sighing, Regina slides into her coat and wraps her scarf around her neck. According to Robin it's cold outside, so she grabs a thick green woolen hat from the counter and pulls it over her curls. As much as she tried, she wasn't able to straighten her hair with the brush and blow dryer in his bathroom. Once she is back, she will do a proper blow out in order to pick up the little bit of confidence that is still there.

Storybrooke on a snowy Christmas morning is a sight to behold. The twinkling lights and decorations, the smell of cinnamon and gingerbread in the air… it's exactly like she remembered. Granny's is closed for the morning and noon while all other shops are closed for the day and probably the next one as well. It's different here from Miami and other big cities where everything people talk about is Boxing Day.

The town is still asleep, however a few lonely souls seem to have made their way across Main Street judging by the footprints in the snow. Regina crosses the street in no hurry. She rather enjoys the silence and imagines the families sitting together at breakfast, unwrapping presents and watching Christmas movies. Perhaps later on, they could show Roland a movie or two depending on whether they'd be able to get him away from his new train set. She remembers the Christmas she got her first doll, raven-haired with darker skin. Lucy. The little doll that was hidden away in a shoebox in her closet in Miami. Mother would scold her if she ever found out, but Mother wasn't there, didn't know and would never, never find out.

Due to the snow, the walk toward her car takes a bit longer than anticipated and the joyful mood she is in dampens a bit when she crosses into Mifflin Street and can see her car covered under a blanket of snow. Hopefully the lock didn't freeze and she will be able to open her car. The pavement is slippery, especially with her heels. She's only a few yards away when Regina can hear a car turning into Mifflin Street. The moment she turns around her heart drops a little.

Of course.

Regina crosses her arms in front of her chest, feeling suddenly much colder than before. How the hell did he find her?! She told no one! She threw her phone out the window so he couldn't track her. Damn Mother and damn him.

The car comes to a halt right next to her. White clouds are steaming up from the car's exhaust, driving away the Christmas smells and replacing it with the stench of gas. The driver rolls the window down, a knowing grin on his face.

"Regina. What a lovely surprise."

"Sidney," Regina mumbles, annoyed, rolling her eyes. Of course her mother's minion would show up here not even 24 hours after she got here. "How did you find me? What do you want?!"

He clicks his tongue as if to reprimand her and stops the engine of his car. It's a rental from the airport. Considering that the closest airports are either Boston or Portland, he must have gotten here quite early.

"It's Christmas, Regina. I'm a concerned friend checking up on you. For some reason you missed your flight to LA yesterday - your mother was very upset she had to put the guests off when they wondered about your whereabouts. She is worried, Regina."

Regina almost laughs. 'Concerned friend' and 'her mother is worried?' Unfortunately for both of them, she is not a child anymore. "The only thing my mother is worried about is her reputation." She walks further down toward her car hoping Sidney would leave her alone. The man however, follows.

"Regina I didn't come all the way here for you to turn your back on me." Sidney is getting angry. Good. Angry Sidney she can deal with. The man hates to be ignored by her, judging from the awkward crush he had ever since they first met when she was sixteen. He'd been in his early thirties by then and lucky for Regina, the one time he'd tried something, her mother had told him off. That was the one and only time Regina had been grateful about her mother's power over her. Sidney may be her right hand man, but he was definitely not good enough for Cora's daughter. It's one of the few advantages Regina has been handed by her mother.

"Then why did you come, Sidney? Clearly not to wish me happy holidays."

"I'm here to bring you back to your mother. The company needs you, Regina." She would have almost believed him if it wasn't the same lame excuse he always brought whenever she decided to do something stubborn and impulsive. Regina Mills is a responsible woman, has never let her mother's company down and put it above everything else. Above her free time, her acquaintances, her relationships, herself and her father. But today, this Christmas, is not one of these days.

"I'm not going back with you, Sidney. For once in my life I need to do what is right for me and not for the company or my mother!" She starts clearing the snow off the front window, trying to ignore Sidney, but the man is determined.

"You don't belong here, Regina. You know where your rightful place is."

Perhaps she should make a snowball and hit Sidney right into the face with it. She’s always wanted to break his nose, which is weird since she usually detested any kind of violence. "See, this is where you're wrong. I was born here, I spent the happiest days of my life here and I owe it to my father to be here with him. So no, Sidney, I am exactly where I belong. Now please leave me alone and tell my mother I will not be back until I've done right by my father."

"Whatever you are looking for, Regina, you are not going to find it here. Do you really think a trip to your father's grave will help you overcome your guilt? You were never there for him."

The brunette stops in her tracks before she turns back around to the man and his smug smile. Her heart sinks a little. It's a low blow and he knows it, they both know her father is off limits, so she can't believe he went _there_ of all places. Usually he knows better, but she isn't sure what her mother promised him for bringing her back. Well if there was ever a chance of him convincing her to come with him after all, she is now more determined than ever.

"The only ones who should feel guilty are you and my mother because you didn't tell me about Daddy's condition. She always tried to sabotage my meetings with Daddy; she always made me work more and harder. _She_ is the reason why I wasn't able to be there for him."

Nevertheless, it doesn't change the fact she should have known or at least suspected something. She should have known when he cancelled their meeting in June; she should have heard it in his voice that something was going on, that something was just wrong. Regina turns back toward her car, trying to clear it so she can finally drive back to Robin's shop and forget this meeting ever happened, but Sidney is insistent.

"We were trying to protect you from heartbreak, Regina. I'm sure by now you have figured out that there is so much you don't know about your father. He always locked you out, Regina. You're mad at your mother and me for not telling you about his death earlier? Then how can you defend a man who lied to you about everything for the past eight years?"

"Daddy never lied to me, not the way my mother has…" He just… withheld things from her. Crucial things like his relationship with Robin and Marian, his health condition...

"So he told you about his mistress and his son then?"

"Excuse me?!" Regina's heart stops beating for a moment as a shudder runs down her back. She's paralyzed, her first thought being that this cannot be, her father would never… Sidney is lying, he must be. He's making this up like he always does, trying to get her to go home with him, but she won't. It's a trick and she is fed up with their lies. "You're lying, Sidney. Leave me the fuck alone and tell my mother to do the same!"

"Regina! His last will clearly states that a good chunk of his assets go to eight-year-old Henry Swan and his mother Emma, who have been living with him for eight years! Here!" He pulls out a brown envelope that contains pictures that he spreads out on the hood of the car. "You should have met them already, they are living in your father's house!"

Panic grasps her from a deep place inside of her. Her father would never have a mistress, much less a son he wouldn't tell her about. However, the pictures tell a different story. Her eyes skip over them. It's different seasons, different places, but they all show her father, a mysterious blonde and a beautiful little boy. Most are from the playground or various street outings. Some of the pictures seem very intimate. There is one where her father hugs the blonde and she has her eyes closed and so, so many which show her father and the boy. He looks so… happy, so careless and free and the way he smiles at the boy was the way he only used to smile for her. It's a stab right into the heart. If she has a brother and her father and the blonde were a thing then… no. No! It's not true, it cannot be. "You're lying. You're lying, you're lying, you're lying!"

Perhaps if she says it out loud often enough she will start believing it, but after everything she learned in the past 24 hours she is slowly starting to doubt everything she ever knew about him.

"I am not lying, Regina. He got himself a new family, a new mistress, a new son. Don't you see? It was never about you, you were never enough for him. If you don't believe me, go see for yourself. Go see what you were worth to him because it might be hard for you to realize but the truth is… you're worth nothing." He takes out a second envelope, which looks a little heavier than the first one. "This is a copy of your father's last will, along with a new phone and plane tickets down to Miami for tomorrow morning. Take some time off. Grieve if you want or need to, but you should know that your mother expects you back in the office by January 2nd."

Sidney steps forward and squeezes her arm comfortingly. "If you need to talk, you know I'm here for you, Regina. I know you don't believe it, but your mother and I… we only want what's best for you."

Regina barely registers him leaving. Her eyes are glued to the pictures, which are stuck to the hood of her car. She's cold, freezing, and the tears slipping out of the corner of her eyes are burning on her skin. All she can stare at is the little boy and the way her father is smiling at him. It hurts, deeply. Her hand reaches out for the picture right in front of her, the one that was taken in the front yard with _her_ apple tree, where her father is holding up the little boy who is reaching out for one of the red delicious apples.

The pain is back in a different way now, mixed with anger and disappointment, the feeling of abandonment and fearing the truth. It all makes sense now, Sidney must be right. She should leave, there is nothing left for her here, she doesn't belong. Regina came here looking for redemption and all she found was more heartache - well, and a soft dimpled smile with bright blue eyes. Robin.

Confusion starts clouding her mind. Robin never mentioned Emma and Henry. Did he purposefully lie to her as well? Is that why he wouldn't let her leave his store yesterday, why he gave her whiskey after whiskey until she was so drunk and emotional she practically begged him to stay with her? Thinking about it, he also made her promise not to go to her father's house alone, so he must know about the blonde and the boy. Why didn't he tell her?

Regina is sick of the lies, sick of everyone withholding the truth from her. She should have taken action long ago, which is why she wipes away her tears, takes a deep breath, and stomps her way down the street to her father's old house. It looks a little different now than it did yesterday evening. There's a little door wreath made of greens with a red bow. The light in the kitchen is on and steam is emerging from the chimney. Someone is definitely home, which makes Regina's heart sink further.

Now or never, she thinks, pushes one side of the iron gate open and walks the path down to the front door. The keys are in her pocket, however she is not sure what to do. Should she just barge in, demand them to leave her house immediately? Should she ring the bell? There is a movement in the window to her right where her father's study used to be. Only seconds later the door is opened by a boy in red pajamas, which she recognizes from the pictures.

He's staring up at her with big green eyes, carrying a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Before Regina can say something, he calls out: "MOM! Regina's here!"

That definitely comes as a surprise. She didn't expect the boy to know who she is, much less what her name is. His call is followed by the banging of pans and something breaking as well as multiple curse words that are definitely not meant for the ears of children.

The blonde she remembers from the pictures appears in the entrance, dressed in a red turtleneck and gray sweatpants. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail and the expression of uncertainty covers her face like a mask. "Henry, go to the living room."

"But mom!"

"Henry, _go_!" She ushers the boy inside and opens the door wider. "Hi, I'm Em…"

Hearing how the blonde calls the boy by her father's name though, makes Regina see red. She doesn't listen, is caught up in the moment of anger and betrayal and before the blonde is able to introduce herself to Regina, her hand meets the other woman's cheek with a loud slap.

Emma gasps, her hand going immediately to her cheek, which is rapidly turning pink. "What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?!" The blonde yells agitatedly, rubbing her cheek in order to ease the pain.

"Is everything okay, Mom?" Henry calls from the living room, sounding rather concerned.

Regina though, is staring disbelievingly at her burning hand, shocked by what she just did to the other woman, despite her probably having deserved it for seducing her father and palming a child off on him.

"Fuck, is this your way of saying Merry Christmas? Damn, I knew your mother was a crazy bitch but Henry never mentioned his daughter…"

"Don't you dare talk about my father you…” The brunette hisses at her through clenched teeth, trying to hold back the tears. It's true, it's all true. The pictures, the blonde, the boy… she should never have come here. It was all a cruel mistake and Sidney was right.

Without another word, Regina turns around and walks back the way she came. She will take the plane tickets, fly home, get drunk and wait for this horrible year to be over.

"Damn it, Regina, wait!" Emma calls after her just before she reaches the gate. Regina doesn't stop though; instead she pulls the gate closed behind her and makes her way back to her car. It's over. It's done. Of all the people in her life, she never expected the person to hurt her most to be her father. But then, being hurt from the person you love most always hurts the most too, right?

There's a ruffling and shuffling behind her, more cursing followed by the words: "Regina! Fuck, Regina wait! Regina!" For Regina though, there is nothing left to say.

She's almost reached her car when Emma, who is a little out of breath, finally catches up with her. "Can you stop for like one moment, woman? What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Just leave me alone!" Regina hisses, pushing the key into the lock while trying to pull it open. The door is frozen shut though. Perfect. She cannot count on anyone, not even her damn car!

Emma rolls her eyes, clearly not impressed. "No I will not leave you alone until you tell me what the hell is wrong with you? This is not the woman Henry always described to me… woah, what the hell is this?"

It is only when the blonde steps forward to the hood of the car that Regina realizes she's left Sidney's pictures there, spread out and for everyone to see.

"What is this? Where did you get these?" Emma asks agitatedly, picking up one after the other. Curiosity is replaced with pure horror as she stares at the most recent ones. "Holy… holy shit! Henry was right. Fuck, Regina, what did they tell you?"

"Does it really matter?" Regina wonders, her arms defensively crossed in front of her chest.

"Yes it does, because about three minutes ago you slapped me in the face for no good reason and now you have all these pictures of my son and me and your dad…"

The brunette almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. Does this bitch really think she's stupid? "I know everything, so you don't have to pretend, Miss… whatever. Whatever, it does not matter anymore. Have a nice life." She turns back to her car and tries to pull it open with as much force as she can manage. The door stays shut though and it is awkward, to have her father's mistress watching her like this, a bit of an amused look on her face.

"Need a hand?" The blonde asks after a while and no, she doesn't want help from _her_ of all people. She should just call a garage; however there probably won't be anything open on Christmas Day. Shit. Everything is shit.

"Oh God, Regina! Listen, I have no idea why the heck you hate me so much but step aside, I know how to…" Emma tries to take a step closer to her but Regina turns around, seething. The blonde raises her hands in defense while trying to calm her down.

"Are you kidding me? Do you really think I'm that stupid?  Listen, I have no idea what the hell my father ever saw in _you…_ "

"Nothing more than a _friend_!" Emma insists. "I took care of him when he was sick, I was there when he died, I did everything his alleged saint of a daughter should have done if she hadn't been too busy crawling up her mommy's butt."  

The words hit their mark deeply. Hearing these words from Sidney is one thing, because he's manipulative and he would say anything to hurt her if it got him closer to his goal. Hearing these words from someone this close to her father though, is another matter, because the worst thing is: they are true. Is this what her father thought for real all these years? Is this why he never told her anything about his life here?

She does not want to believe that the past twenty-seven years were all a lie, however the more she learns, the less she can believe it. Regina doesn't want to cry anymore, wonders if there would be a time when no tears are left, because frankly, she's shed enough tears of grief and misery over the last few weeks and especially the past 48 hours. Moreover, she does not want to start crying in front of her father's mistress of all people who just told her exactly what she thought of her. Regina has never been good at containing her emotions though. To her father, she has always been an open book and ever since she came back here to Storybrooke, she learned that there is so much she has not processed, so many demons from her past and present and the uncertain prospects of her future.

"I am so sorry Regina, I should never have said that," Emma whispers and sighs. When Regina looks up through teary eyes, she can see the worry as well as shame on the blonde's face. "But why do you apparently hate me so much? You don't even know me."

"Well how would you react if after twenty-seven years you found out your father had a mistress and a son he never told you about?" Regina wonders while wiping her nose on the sleeve of her coat.

"He _what?!_ Excuse me? Henry had a…" The blonde's eyes wander down to the pictures in her hand and suddenly the ball drops. "You think that…? Oh god…" Bright laughter is filling the air and Regina doesn't know what's going on. The situation is anything but funny in her opinion so she does not get why the blonde would suddenly crack up with laughter. "You… you think I… and Henry… I can't."

"Excuse me for finding it disturbing that my father has a mistress who is my age - or even younger…"

Emma though cannot stop laughing. "I'm not… we weren't… ewww! No! Henry isn't… Shit, Regina why the hell would you think that?"

She points at the pictures in the blonde's hand as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. Sidney said… of course. Sidney. He and her mother would have told her anything to get her to come home and not stay in Storybrooke. It suddenly dawns on her how wrong she was, how she let herself be guided by assumptions and didn't think things through. "You and my father weren't…? The kid isn't…?"

" _No!_ Oh god, no! Eww! I mean I love Henry, but not like _that_. Is that why you slapped me? Because you thought I was his mistress?"

"That's what I was told, yes." And right now, she knows she should have never believed a word that came out of the lying bastard's mouth.

"I can assure you that your father is the last person on earth who would harbor a mistress. Damn, why would you even believe this bullshit?" As Regina cannot give a satisfying answer, she just shrugs helplessly and wishes the ground would open up to swallow her. Emma continues to laugh and shake her head at the situation before she finally locks eyes with Regina.

"How about you come inside and we can talk about everything? It's kind of cold out here and your car is frozen shut anyway."

Although the situation is more than embarrassing, Regina agrees. Without another word, she follows Emma back to the house and walks up the familiar path to the front door. Henry is sitting on the steps in the hallway, waiting anxiously for his mother to come back. Damn, she hopes the boy didn't see her hit his mother.

"All is good, kid. There was just a bit of a misunderstanding between Regina and I. Henry, this is Regina. Regina, this is my son, Henry." The boy shakes her hand shyly before he retreads back to his mother, watching her intently.

"I want to apologize for disturbing your Christmas morning, Henry. I should not have come."

"Are you here to get your presents?" Henry wonders but Regina shook her head.

"No, I'm here because of my father."

"Gramps?"

Emma laughs nervously before she ushers Henry into the living room, asking him to play with one of his new action figures while she leads Regina into the warm kitchen.

Being back in this house after all these years is… weird. Things almost look the same, smell the same, feel the same. There's an undeniable warmth that spreads inside of her when she looks at the familiar furniture, at the pictures on the walls. Old pictures and new ones she doesn't even remember being taken. There are a few framed newspaper articles about her and her mother's company, her name shining bright in neon text marker. There are new pictures too though. Pictures of Emma and Henry, of Robin, Roland and a beautiful brunette who must have been Marian.

"Sorry for the mess," Emma mutters when they arrive in the kitchen. It smells like cinnamon and… old pizza?

Usually she would have said it to be all right, but the kitchen is indeed a mess. Dirty pots and pans as well as the remnants of baking utilities spread out everywhere. It's not really dirty, just messy. "We were invited to Granny's Christmas Eve dinner yesterday evening and Henry insisted on bringing cookies and some other stuff. I didn't have the time to clean up yet. Coffee?"

Without waiting for an answer, Emma grabs two mugs for the keurig and presses the button while Regina sits down on one of the high chairs at the counter, coat on her lap. The blonde is about to say something when the doorbell rings.

Regina can hear the stomping of children's feet to the front door and Emma's confused glance at the clock. She is clearly not expecting someone, especially not… "Robin? What are you doing here?"

The man stumbles into the kitchen, his face filled with worry. "Regina? Are you okay?"

"Thanks for checking in on me, too," Emma grumbles sarcastically.

"Henry called me, he was freaking out, saying Regina came here and there was a lot of shouting and yelling so I came as fast as I could - Roland is not happy I pulled him away from his new train set and I could only get him to come when I told him Santa left a little something at grandpa Henry's house for him. Emma have you…?"

"Everything is under the Christmas tree, labeled and all. Even one present for you, although you don't deserve it. We are okay, although you could have at least mentioned the kid and me last night. It would have saved us a _lot_ of trouble this morning," the blonde sighs, absently rubbing the cheek Regina slapped earlier. Thankfully apart from a slight reddish gleam on the skin there is no such thing like a handprint left. At Robin's confused look and Regina's ashamed expression, Emma rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Let's just say Regina has been a bit misinformed about my… _position_ in this household. Now Robin… I think I owe Regina an explanation. Would you mind watching the kids for a moment? We don't want Roland to try eating the tree again."

"That was two years ago… and he was reaching for one of the gingerbread men… Alright, alright, I'll go," he mutters after Emma throws a towel at him. "You'll be okay, Regina?"

Regina gives him a smile and nods. Damn he needs to stop being so damn considerate because she can't handle this, especially not when Emma is giving them these looks. Once Robin closes the kitchen door behind him, the blonde says turns back around. "Mind if I clean up the kitchen while we talk?"

"Only if you let me help," Regina insists, glad that when Emma nods thankfully, she finally has something to do she is good at, something where she doesn't need to think.

Emma has been through a lot. Growing up an orphan she went from foster home to foster home until she decided to run off one day and never look back. She was able to survive by running a few small cons until she met Neal. Neal, who was just like her in so many ways but so different in others. "We were like Bonnie and Clyde, a least that's how I liked to think about us," she says.

However, just like the two legendary thieves, Emma and Neal got caught as well. While he got a ten-year sentence for taking all the blame upon him, Emma got away with a six-month sentence in a prison in Boston. It was only in there that she found out she was pregnant.

"When I got out, I was eight months along and had nowhere to go, I just knew I couldn't stay in Boston, so I took the bus up North." For some reason, Emma landed in Storybrooke.

"I thought this small town was my undoing, but it was my safe haven."

She lived on the street for a few days until she got involved in an accident. "I thought I was going to die. Worse, I thought the baby was going to die, but your father was there, Regina, he saved me… and then he had a heart attack from the exhaustion."

It shocks Regina to hear this, to hear that her father suffered a heart attack from saving a young pregnant woman. She scrubs the pan harder, tries to get rid of her anger this way. The hot water burns her hands, but the pain is good, pain she can deal with. If Emma notices anything, she doesn't say. Instead, she continues. The accident caused her contractions and everything went so fast, she had to give birth herself. When the baby was there, she couldn't even look at him, didn't want to hold him.

"I wanted to give him up for adoption. I thought he deserved better than me, that he deserved his best chance." Later that day, she woke up in a room next to Regina's father who was still recovering from his heart attack.

"He talked to me. He was very sweet to me and asked me all kind of questions. I felt so guilty for having caused his heart attack but he said he'd gladly suffer another one if that meant the baby and I were alright." Henry didn't understand why she would give the baby up, told her there was always a way out, but Emma was insistent until one evening.

"It was three days after I had him. They wouldn't let me out of the hospital because of my severe concussion and because I kept throwing up. I wanted to leave but I couldn't even walk straight… So that evening Henry came into the room with my baby in his arms. I… I hated him for doing that to me and I was so scared Regina… So scared."

Emma heard him talking to the baby, his soft gasps and sighs… and she just had to look at her perfectly healthy baby boy, all dressed in a blue onesie. "When he placed the baby in my arms I… I fell in love. I _knew_ that I had to keep him, that I had to be his mother."

Things were tough for Emma though. She didn't know how to care for herself, so how was she supposed to care for an infant at only eighteen years old, without a job, without a home… This was when Henry made her an offer she couldn't refuse. _"I'm an old man, Emma. I'm sick. I have a big house with too many empty rooms. You and the baby need a home… and I need someone to keep me company. So how about it?"_

"I declined at first because I didn't want his charity. It took me a while to realize that it wasn't charity, it was Henry taking a chance on me. It was both of us taking a chance on each other and at the same time it was the best chance I could give my son… So I said yes. We moved in here and your father, he is so great with kids, he's fantastic. My boy loved him so much; he was like a father, grandfather and more. In exchange for living here, I took care of the household and your dad. He's the best thing that ever happened to me, to us."

"Is that why you named him after my father?" Regina wonders quietly. She never wanted to have kids, was too scared to become like her mother. However she swore to herself if she ever had a son, she would have named him after her father.

"Yes," Emma answers and Regina is glad she did. Her father deserves it and now, after Emma's story, there are so many things that make more sense, while at the same time she has so many more questions.

"But why did he never tell me about you?"

Emma bites her lower lip. "To be honest, I'm not exactly sure. I know that he loved you Regina, very much so, and he always got so excited when he travelled to meet you somewhere, whether it was Miami or New York or… But I got the feeling he always hoped you'd come here to meet us. I do not have an answer to your question really… but I think I might know what does."

Xxxxx

The Christmas tree is one of the few festive decorations in the house. Emma explains that Henry and her did not think it fitting to make a big deal out of Christmas so shortly after Henry Sr.'s death, which is why they forwent the decorations this year. The grand Christmas tree in the living room next to the fireplace though, Regina's all time favorite piece, is right there, sparkling in warm lights, ornaments and tinsel, with self decorated cookies, candied apples and picture ornaments of Emma, Henry, her father and Regina herself. It looks just like she remembers, a perfect Christmas scenery as if her father has decorated it himself.

"R'ginaaa!" Roland yells when he spies her from his place in front of the couch. There's an action figure in his hand. "Look what I gots from Santa! It's a Spiderman like Henry has!"

"That's fantastic, Roland," Regina mumbles smiling before she kneels down and takes a good look at the action figure Roland is shoving into her face. The realization that earlier today she just wanted to leave without even saying goodbye to Roland hits her hard in this moment. She would have just left the little boy without an explanation, damn it. What kind of person, no, what kind of _mother_ would do this?

"Yeah now we can play together, Roland!" Henry chimes in, "And now you have your _own_ stuff and don't always need to take _mine_." Roland laughs ecstatically, clearly not understanding the comment as he is too wrapped up in his new toy.

"Henry!" Emma hisses, sending her son a pointed look but the older boy just shrugs. This is what siblings must be like.

"Mom, you should give Regina her present from Gramps."

The mention of a gift for _her_ from her father makes Regina listen up. She can feel Robin taking her hand and pulling her over to the sofa, which might be over three decades old but is still as comfortable as she remembers.

Emma hands her the square package wrapped in shiny golden paper with a wine red bow. It has a little paper nametag on it with her name written in the beautiful, bold handwriting of her father. She always liked the way he wrote the capital R, so elegant, so regal. Regina remembers sitting at her desk as a child and practicing it, trying to copy her name in the way her father wrote it down however; she never quite managed to match his elegance. _“The way you write a person’s name says a lot about what you see in them,”_ he once said. Her fingers trace the R slowly and she can imagine him sitting in the dark leather chair at his old wooden bureau in the study. It’s how she likes to remember him and suddenly it dawns on her that she needs to be there, to trace his last steps.

“I… I’m sorry, I need a moment alone,” she whispers before she quickly gets up, the present pressed to her chest. No one stops her, which she appreciates. They know she needs time to deal with this, and for some reason it bugs her that everyone seems to know about her, but she has never even heard of these people. The only thing she hears is Roland’s confused “Where is Mommy R’gina going?” which is followed by Emma choking on a Christmas cookie. Right. There’s that. Leave it to Robin to explain this mess to Emma and her son Henry.

Her father’s study is just down the hall, the last door on the right. Regina’s eyes are fixed on the golden doorknob and her hand shakes with hesitation. Would it look the same like the rest of the house? Would it still smell like him? For a short moment, Regina hopes that when she opens the door to the study, her father will be sitting in his chair, waiting for her. He will look up, smile and hug her, tell her how much he missed her and that he cannot wait to spend the holidays with her. Carried away by her illusions, Regina opens the door to the study and is hit by the cool truth of reality.

The study is warm; it has always been the warmest place of the house during winter. The walls are filled to the top with books. Some covers she remembers while many new ones have made their way into her father’s collection. The two large leather chairs that used to stand under the window are gone and she remembers they are now in Robin’s shop. The old vintage tray with crystal glasses and a half filled bottle of her father’s favorite whiskey are still there however.

Regina slowly walks over, caressing the seam of the glasses and the bottle of McKenzie Single Malt with its distinct balance of sweet and fruity bitterness and a finish of bonfire night. Without further ado, she places the present on the side before she pours herself a generous amount. While she tells herself it is all in remembrance if her father, the truth is, she is nervous. The place still smells like him, like leather and whiskey, old books and cigars even though he has quit smoking years ago. She does not want to disturb anything, does not want to think about whether the fountain pen on the desk was the last thing he touched before he left for the hospital, or if he ever got to finish that copy of Irish short stories which lies forgotten on the edge of the desk with a bookmark sticking out.

Slowly, very slowly Regina walks over to the desk, placing the glass of whiskey on a - no, his - saucer and places the present in front of her. She pulls the chair close, feels the edge of the seat pressing into the hollow of her knee before she finally sits down. The leather is cool but soft, feels familiar. Sometimes, she used to crawl up on her father’s lap while he was working. He never shooed her away, not once, enjoyed their every moment together. Regina knows she misses him, but being here in these walls, in this room… it is making everything ten times worse.

She takes a sip of liquid courage while the first tear rolls down her cheek and she pulls at one end of the bow, which comes undone easily. While there is a thrill in receiving one last gift from your loved one, there is also the fear of uncertainty. What is inside? Is it a book, a box? It is hard to tell. The gift is a ticking time bomb and the way Regina unwraps it, she treats it exactly like one. When the golden paper comes undone, it reveals a dark leather bound book with golden letters stamped into the cover. _“Once Upon a Time…”._  

Regina cannot breathe. Instead, she takes a big gulp of the whiskey because she knows _exactly_ what this is. With shaking hands, the brunette lifts the cover and thumbs through the first page. The paper is thick, almost as stiff as cardboard but much more elegant with a watermark pressed into every corner. There’s a single picture of a sonogram in the center of the page, dated back to some time in July thirty three years ago. It’s blurry, a tiny bean, but she knows it’s her. The next page shows her father in the hospital with a little pink bundle in his arms, a smile of pure happiness and pride covering his face. He looks so much younger in there and suddenly Regina realizes how much the past years must have taken a toll on him with his sickness and everything else.

The pictures continue chronologically. Sometimes it’s just her, most of the time it’s her and her father though. Every picture is commented with a memory or a sweet thought, and each picture breaks her dam a little further. She’s never seen these, can only remember selected moments because well, she was little. The Christmas pictures are her favorite, with their house all perfectly decorated and lit up for the most wonderful time of the year. To little Regina, they used to have the prettiest house in the neighborhood, but it is only now that Regina realizes it wasn’t just the house, it was _everything_. They were so happy. So happy and then suddenly, on her sixth Christmas, everything is just… gone. The pictures become few and sacred, mostly very staged, but she is glad for them nevertheless. Her father used to make a big deal out of taking at least one picture together every time they met up, an annoying thing for a teenager but a precious memory now.

With every page it gets harder and harder to keep her tears at bay and when she hits her graduation pictures with the words “ _I wish I could have been there. So proud of my little princess!”_ written underneath, she is openly sobbing now. Of all the gifts he could have made her, this is the greatest one of all. It’s them, their entire life together. Every moment she now wishes she could remember better. How could she ever take her father and his love for granted?

It is a surprise to thumb through the pages further and not only see pictures of herself anymore but also of him and baby Henry and Emma, later on even Robin, Marian and little Roland. Just like her, they were his family. He was not alone or unloved, he had so many wonderful people in his life apart from her and she is jealous and at the same time glad his life must have been everything but miserable. The photo album helps. It helps her understand who her father was, what he did, how much he cared for every one of the people around him, how much he cared for her.

When she reaches the last page, her vision is blurry, her cheeks wet and her glass of whiskey empty. The last page does not contain a picture, but an envelope that once again carries her name in the familiar handwriting. Her father’s last words to her. Damn it, she needs another drink.

There’s a knock on the door followed by a soft “Regina?”. Robin pushes the door open slowly, his eyes looking for confirmation that he’s okay to step inside. When she sits back and nods defeatedly, he walks inside and shuts the door behind him. It feels weird to know that all this man has seen and heard from her so far are drunken words and tears. Right now, the scene is not much different from the one yesterday.

He steps closer but keeps a comfortable distance between them. Robin needs to stop being so damn considerate of her feelings. She is still a little angry with him that he did not tell her about Emma and Henry but the fact he dropped everything to come here after Henry called, says more than words. Why does he like her so much? Is it all because he pities her? Does he think if he is no damn gentleman with her she is going to grab her things and leave his son?

Robin, his family, they meant something to her father; otherwise they wouldn’t be inside the album with some of the kindest things written underneath their pictures.

“I’m sorry I did not tell you about Emma and Henry earlier. I should have and the misunderstanding that happened this morning is my fault.” It’s not, not really and she should not be angry with him anymore, not when all he tried to do was to protect her. If someone is at fault, it is Sidney and her mother. Do they really think Emma is her father’s lover and Henry his son, or was it just a con to get her to leave?

“Did you know about the album?” Regina whispers, her voice raw from crying.

“I did not… What is it? May I see?”

She nods, pushing her chair to the side so Robin can step closer to her. However, before she is able to turn back to the first page, Robin rests his hand upon hers and points at the envelope Regina has vehemently tried to ignore. “Don’t you want to know what’s inside?”

“I’m scared of what he has to say.”

“Are you scared he might have answers to your questions?” Robin wonders and she nods. He sighs. “When… When Marian died, she left me a letter of her own. I found it the day after her funeral - actually - your father gave it to me. He told me to read it, but I was so wrapped up in my own grief… I was so mad at her for leaving Roland and me alone. I got drunk, Regina. Really, really drunk, dropped Roland off with your father and Emma and left for a week. Marian’s letter was with me, unopened, burning in my pocket like a hot piece of coal but I couldn’t bring myself to open it. I was scared. Scared that she would scold me for leaving Roland alone, for acting this way after her death. It was ridiculous because how would she know?”

Regina doesn’t look at him, her eyes focused on the envelope. She cannot imagine Robin leaving his precious son on her father’s doorstep. “You’re a good father, Robin.”

“Perhaps I am now, but I wasn’t back then. Do you want to know what Marian told me?” He does not wait for an answer but skips right ahead because she needs to hear him out, even if she does not want to. “She told me that she loved me and that it is okay to grieve her, but that I also have a responsibility: Roland. Marian said she might be gone physically, but she would always be with us in our hearts. I never once doubted that she loved us more than anything and when I finished the letter, all my anger vanished. I sobered up and I drove home to my son. Without her letter I don’t know where I would be now.”

He’s right. Regina hates that he is right, but he speaks the truth. How often does one get the chance to receive one last letter from their loved ones? If her father intended her to have this album, he must have also intended her to read the letter. She may be scared, yes, but her father always used to tell her that she can do anything she wants. Robin is right beside her, she is not alone. Even though she has only known him since yesterday, she feels something for him, something she cannot describe. Perhaps it’s because he knew her father, perhaps it’s because he is the first person to just see her for _her_ instead of a good match for money and power, or just a pretty face.

“Will you stay with me while I read it?”

“I’ll be right here,” he smiles and pulls over a stool that stands close to the wall. “You read your letter and I’ll have a look at the album.”

“Please don’t laugh about my ugly teenage-pimple-braces-face,” she says, sounding more than a little serious about it. Robin just raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think there was even one second in your life where you ever looked ugly, Regina.”

“Then I guess you’re in for a surprise,” she grumbles before she picks up the envelope with shaking hands. Her father’s silver letter opener rests in a slim black box with green velvet. When she was a child, she was never allowed to use it but now, she takes one of her father’s most valuable pieces and carefully slits the envelope open.

The letter is long, three pages in total, all written in his significant handwriting. Her hands are shaking as a few selected words catch her eye. Regina throws a side-glance at Robin who is thumbing through the pages of the album, sometimes smiling, sometimes chuckling. Whatever is in this letter, it is the last thing her father wanted to tell her.

Robin’s hand absently wanders over to her shoulder and squeezes lightly, encouraging. Well, here goes nothing.

 

_My dearest Princess,_

_It saddens my heart to know that when you read these words, I will be no longer with you. It would be silly to ask you not to cry, because I cannot stop the tears from coming while I am writing this last letter to you either. I know you are beating yourself up because you were not here during my last hours. I know you would have come if you had known. I love you, Regina my dear, I love you more than anything in this world and more than words can say. Please always keep this in mind while you read this, as by the end, you might be angry with me._

_The day you were born was the happiest day of my life. I always wished for a daughter I could spoil and love, who I could take riding and ice-skating once she was old enough. Every moment spent with you, my little girl, is manifested in my heart and I wish I could make them last forever. You, Regina, are my greatest gift and greatest joy. Despite all the difficulties, I always tried to be a good father to you. While I cannot be the judge of whether I succeeded or not, I am so proud of the wonderfully strong, smart and independent woman you have become. This is one of the reasons why my heart aches, for what I have to tell you now is something I never wanted you to know even though deep down I know you have a right to._

_For years you must have wondered why on that day Cora dragged you to the car, I just stood there and did nothing. I know you were angry with me because you didn't understand. Please know that this was not because I didn't love you. I wish I could have saved you from_ her _, but my hands were tied back then, as much as they were tied all these past few years. While I consider you my daughter in every way possible, I must tell you that I am not your biological father._

_Cora had an affair before we married, for which I forgave her the moment I heard your heartbeat during her first ultrasound. I_ always _wanted you, Regina. From the moment I heard your heartbeat, I knew you were mine; I knew that I would give my life for you. However, when you were born, Cora showed her true face. My name was not put onto your birth certificate and my every attempt to legally adopt you was shut down by her. As I am not your biological father, I had no claim over you, no right to have you. Every time Cora wanted something from me, she used you to get to me. This is why on that day, when she took you away from me, I could not do anything but stand there and watch. Please believe me that I remember this day as the worst day of my life and that it still shatters me to think about it. You are everything to me, Regina. Always have been and always will be._

_I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I did not want to break your heart. Cora has so much power over your life and I did not want you to suffer for my mistakes. I was always powerless against her, had to play by her rules in order to see you. I was not allowed to tell you I was sick, I was not allowed to tell you about the people in my life or anything that would bring you back here, to Storybrooke._

_I want to apologize. I am sorry. I am so sorry that I could not be enough, that I could not be the fixture in your life I always wanted to be. It is your right to hate me, to be upset with me now. I am sorry I could not tell you in person, but now that I am gone, I hope that you can forgive me when you find out the truth. What is mine is now yours. My only wish I have for you is to be happy and free. Do not let anyone hold you back._

_Regina, I have never loved anyone more than you and to me, you_ are _my daughter. Perhaps not by blood, but by choice and love. I hope that one day, you can forgive me for all my mistakes._

_Love always,_

_Daddy_

 

Her heart sinks… and sinks… and shatters. She stares at the lines, reads them over and over and over, but the words do not change, no matter how often she wishes they would. This cannot be the truth, this is just… _wrong_! Slowly, Regina gets up; the pages that rest on her lap fall down to the ground. She takes her empty crystal glass and walks over to the whiskey tray, fills it half and swallows. One, two, three times. Then, in one swift moment, she turns around and smashes the glass into the nearest wall where it shatters into a thousand pieces, just like her heart.

“Regina!” Robin gasps surprised, jumping up to go and get to her. If she has been shaking before reading the letter, it is no comparison to what her body is going through right now. He is reaching out to touch her but she steps away.

“Don’t touch me.”

The words cut right through him, she can see that but she doesn’t want to be touched or hugged or talked to right now, no. Not when her whole life is a lie and the one person she trusted betrayed her like this. She is angry, so goddamn fucking angry she is incapable of saying anything. Hot and angry tears are flushing down her cheeks, which she wipes away agitatedly because she is done with crying, does not want to cry anymore. It’s all she has done the past few days and enough is enough. Regina is tired of crying, tired of being lied to, tired of feeling hurt and betrayed by everyone she thought close to her, she thought cared about her.

“Regina, what happened?”

“Leave me alone,” she chokes out between clenched teeth. He tries to reach out for her again but this time she swats his hand away. Is he deaf? “I said leave me _alone_!”

“I am just trying to help, Regina.” And he does. It’s all he’s tried to do since she got here and she would be lying if she said his presence hasn’t helped but right now she needs to be alone, alone and angry. It’s her right to feel this way.

“Please go before I say something I cannot take back.”

He looks at her intently for a moment, contemplating what to do before he nods and heads over to the door. “If you decide to leave, please give me the heads up so I can think of an explanation for my son. Roland has lost his mother once, I’d hate for him to lose a mother again without a good reason.”

The door shuts close and Regina is quick to lock it up behind him. She does not want to see anyone, does not want to talk or be pitied. Did they know? Maybe. Probably. But even if they knew, it wasn’t their place to tell her. She shouldn’t have listened to Robin, should have burned the letter and just lived with the wonderful memories her father collected in the photo album.

What she doesn’t understand is _why_. Why now? Why tell her only after his death? Why would he give into her mother’s blackmail for all these years?

Her head is full of questions she does not have an answer to and the only person who could have answered, is now dead. Well, not the only one… Her mother is still very much alive, probably wondering whether her scheme has worked out. Regina has always known her mother to be cunning but this… this is a new low. Also, if her father isn’t her real father, then who is? Does he know he has a daughter? How could Henry ever forgive her mother for doing this to him?

_‘I always wished for a daughter’_ did he really not care that she wasn’t truly his?

A terrible headache forms in the sides of her head, making it even harder to think or to breathe. Slowly, very slowly, Regina walks back over to the bureau and sits down in the chair. The leather is cold but it is okay. Coldness, numbness, darkness, betrayal, anger… will there ever come a time when she will not feel this kind of emotion?

Her eyes fall onto the open album. Robin must have left it right there before he jumped up to check on her. The page shows a picture of her and her father. She must be three, maybe four. Both are dressed in matching red snowsuits, cuddling close in front of the Christmas tree they decided to take home and Regina is brought to tears again. One question is burning on the tip of her tongue. Why?

“Why me?”

Xxxxx

It’s early in the afternoon when Regina pushes open the gate of the cemetery. The air is cold, almost freezing again and she is glad Emma somehow managed to get her suitcase out of her car so she could change out of the shrunken sweater into something warmer and more comfortable. After a few hours of sulking, procrastinating and reading her father’s letter over and over, asking questions no one could give her the answer to, she could not bear to stay in the house any longer.

When she exited the study, eyes puffy and swollen, Emma didn’t ask what happened or what was wrong for which she is glad. Instead, the blonde handed her some warm and comfortable winter boots, telling her to keep them for the time being.

The snow next to the gate is full of footprints, reminding her of their little adventure from last night. A soft smile itches in the corners of her lips but she cannot bring herself to do so. It is weird how much can happen in 24 hours, how much can change. The spot right behind the wall looks even more desolate, as this is where they fell, where she kissed him. This kiss is the only thing she does not regret since coming here.

For some reason, despite being quite drunk last night, Regina remembers the way to her father’s grave. A blanket of snow covers the top of the gravestone as well as the few floral wreaths that have been laid upon it after the funeral. A funeral she has not been to, didn’t know about… She should ask Emma why she didn’t contact her personally.

The electric light upon the grave is turned off. Perhaps the battery didn’t withstand the cold or it simply ran out. Usually, Regina does not believe in such things as fate and signs and God, but it can be considered quite ironic how now that she has found out the truth about her father, the little light is turned off.

On the way over, she has thought about a thousand things to say to him but now that she is standing here, every single thought and sentence she carefully prepared, is gone. Regina is exhausted. All that is left, is sadness and the recurring question of why, because she doesn’t understand… or perhaps she just does not want to? It just doesn’t make sense.

 

_I am not your biological father._

_“You were everything to your father."_

_I am so sorry that I could not be enough._

_“You made him so happy.”_

_Regina, I have never loved anyone more than you and to me, you_ are _my daughter._

_“You were the most important thing."_

_It is your right to hate me._

_“You will always be the thing he loved most.”_

_I hope that one day, you can forgive me._

 

“I don’t hate you, Daddy,” Regina chokes out with a sob, falling onto her knees in front of her father’s grave. “I could never hate you. I’m just so… so _angry_ because I don’t understand why. I... I’ve felt so angry for so long now, at mother, at you and most of all myself, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I just don’t want to be angry anymore. I want answers, but now you’re gone and Mother will never tell me the truth.”

She brushes the snow off one of the floral wreaths. “You could have told me. You could have told me the truth the moment I turned eighteen and we would have figured it out somehow. Why didn’t you? What were you so afraid of? I just… Daddy you were the only person I could _always_ count on, the only person I could trust would never lie to me and now... Now I am learning all these things about you, about a life you lived I had no part of. Robin and Roland and Emma and Henry. I wish you would have let me been a part of it and…”

“MOMMY R’GINAAA!”

Regina has no time to react before a bundle of dark brown curls crushes against her side and makes her topple over into the snow.

“Roland!” his father chastises him, slightly out of breath apparently. He holds a bouquet of five pink roses in his hand as well as a piece of paper in his other. “Roland I told you to slow down and… God, I’m so sorry, Regina.” Robin immediately drops the items into the snow and pulls his son off the confused looking brunette.

It’s obvious that she’s been crying again however she still wipes at her cheeks and sits back up. Some snow has apparently found a way to melt against her neck. It’s cold and uncomfortable but at the same time a welcome distraction.

“I’m sorry,” Robin apologizes again, reaching out in order to help her up but then he draws back the moment he remembers their last conversation and how she reacted when he tried to touch her. To both of their surprise, Roland reaches out to her and kneels down next to her, cupping her cheeks with his gloved hands.

“Why are you sad?” He wonders and for a four-year-old, he wears a quite determined look on his face. Why is she sad? Well, where should she begin? “Is it because of grandpa Henry?”

“Roland, we should really,” Robin cuts in, clearly trying to help her out of the awkward situation, however Regina does something that surprises them both. She pulls Roland into a tight hug, breathing in and out in order to keep the tears at bay.

“Yes, I am sad because of him. You know, I found out he is not my _real_ Daddy and…” Oh God, what is she doing, she should not have said that. Not in front of a child who wouldn’t understand what that means anyway and definitely not in front of Robin who is looking at her, mouth open and eyes popping out of his skull.

“Like you are not my _real_ Mama?” Roland asks a little confused.

“Yeah, I… it is a little more complicated than that, Roland. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Do you love me, R’gina?”

This question catches her off guard. How is she supposed to answer that? She’s only met the little man hours ago and against all reasoning decided to play along with his Christmas wish and become his mother. So she says the only thing that’s right to say. “Of course I love you, Roland.”

The boy gives her his brightest smile. “Then you _can_ be my Mommy. I have two mommies like Toto!”

Robin chuckles when he sees her staring at his son with confusion. She doesn’t understand what Roland wants to tell her, thinks it’s probably only the rambling logic of a four-year-old. Carefully, Robin kneels down next to them, leaving a comfortable distance between him and Regina. “You see, Roland’s friend Tobias has two mommies, Ruby and Dorothy. And while Toto only grew in Dorothy’s tummy, it does not mean that Ruby loves him any less than Dorothy does. He is her son nonetheless. I think what Roland is trying to say is that family does not always have to be related by blood, but that we choose who belongs to our family, right Roland?”

“Yes!” The little boy exclaims excitedly. “Like Santa chose you to be my Mommy, R’gina.”

Regina stares at father and son for a long moment before her eyes wander over to her father’s grave. They are… right. All her father has ever tried to give her was love and acceptance… and the feeling that he was proud of the person she has become. He supported her no matter what, stood behind her every decision. Henry _never_ gave her the feeling that she is anything but his most precious princess.

_I_ always _wanted you, Regina. From the moment I heard your heartbeat, I knew you were mine; I knew that I would give my life for you._

Blood didn’t matter to him, her father loved her anyway. It feels so surreal to realize this, and thankfully the realization lets a good chunk of her anger vanish into nothingness. If blood did not matter to him, it should not matter to her. Henry is the only father she has ever known.

“He loved me,” she whispers starstruck, finally believing the words in his letter she has blended out the whole time. “I wasn’t his own, but he still loved me.”

Regina doesn’t know what is real anymore, feels like she is caught between a layer of denial and realization. Ever since she came here, her world has been turned upside down and not particularly in a good way. It is still a mystery to her why he would tell her now after his death, why he never uttered a word before, what role her mother played in all of this.

“Of course he loved you Regina,” Robin whispers, now finally breaking through the distance between them in laying a hand on her shoulder. It feels good, safe.

“I love you too, R’gina,” Roland pipes up, throwing himself into her arms laughing.

She should have never doubted her father’s love. Never once, although it is easier to believe that he never cared. It’s easier to believe hurtful words over the truth, and even when the truth hurts sometimes, it always has a purpose. Perhaps she is yet to find out why her father revealed her secret. For now, she hugs Roland back, is glad for the physical and emotional comfort he and Robin are offering. Right now she wonders how things would have played out had she not decided to go and get a bottle of whiskey at his store yesterday evening.

“Daddy, hug us too!” Roland exclaims, cuddling further into Regina’s embrace and audibly smacking a kiss against her cheek.

His eyes seek hers, asking silently for permission which she offers with a nod. Being held feels good, especially after the emotional stress from this morning and afternoon. The hug could have lasted longer, but it’s cold and the sky is turning dark already. Kneeling and sitting on the snow has dampened her jeans slightly. Roland is the first one to wriggle out of their hug, urging them to keep going. “Mama’s gift, Papa!”

And right, the two of them did not come here to check up on her but on Marian. Finding her here is more of a coincidence - a welcome one if she may say so.

Robin pulls away, lingering a little with his fingers brushing her tousled hair out of her forehead. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Regina answers truthfully. Robin nods and helps her up as well as patting her back down in order to remove the snow from her coat.

“We are bringing Christmas gifts to my Mama,” Roland chants happily, holding up the small bouquet as well as a laminated picture he drew. “Will you come say hi to Mama, too, R’gina?”

“If that’s okay with your father?”

“Of course,” Robin agrees quickly.

“I’d… Then I’d love to,” she whispers, her eyes nervously shooting over to Robin who, to her surprise, is holding her hand for some reason. A small smile spreads on her face as her eyes wander down to their hands. Robin seems to notice, has the urge to pull away, but she squeezes his hand a little, silently telling him that it’s okay, she likes it, and it feels good to have someone to hold on to.

Marian’s grave is actually not that far off from her father’s. It’s down the row and then onto the left. Roland runs right past it, as it is covered in snow and not easily distinguished from the others in the row. When Robin calls him back, the boy huffs and runs toward them with a loud: “I didn’t see, Papa!”

Robin carefully clears a little spot free of the snow before he disentangles his hand from Regina’s in order to lay down the roses. If he is speaking to her, he does so in silence, a stark contrast to Roland who stops right over the grave to place the picture against the gravestone.

 

_Marian Raquelle Locksley_

_1979 - 2012_

_True love is inexhaustible; the more you give, the more you have. You gave it all._

 

“... and a trainset. A real one with a train station! And I got a Spiderman like Henry has and… oh I forgots! Look Mama, this is R’gina, my Christmas Mommy!”

Regina’s cheek flush at the mention and she doesn’t know what to do, so she just waves at Roland who crouched down next to the grave stone.  “She came with Santa and Rudolph, she rode on his _sledge_! But she can only stay a week because then she has to go back to Santa to the North Pole.” She can see Roland crouching down and lowering his voice, mumbling something she cannot hear while his eyes keep on sliding over to her. Whatever it is, it is a secret between mother and son.

They stay at her grave for a while longer as Roland insists on Robin telling him a Mama-story, to which Regina listens intently. The admiration and love with which Robin speaks is heart wrenching and the love he still feels for his wife is very much on display. Thinking of what he told her about Marian, how she chose Roland over her health cannot have been an easy thing for Robin to accept. Robin had been angry with Marian, angry with the world and himself, very much like she is right now. Looking at father and son and how content they seem to be, Regina wonders if perhaps, one day, she will be able to stand in front of her father’s grave and feel the same way.

“Let’s go,” Robin whispers close to her ear. He picks up Roland with one arm before offering her to link into the other. Together they leave the cemetery and head over to Robin’s car. He tells her how they usually walk the distance, but it’s dark and probably going to snow again tonight according to the weather report.

Once Roland is fastened up in his booster seat, Robin walks to the door of the driver’s side.

“Don’t you want to get in?” He wonders, obviously a little confused about her standing on the sidewalk while fidgeting with the buttons of her coat.

“I… I’m not really sure where to go.” They haven’t talked about anything other than their crazy plan to fulfill Roland’s Christmas wish this morning and while it is obvious for Roland Regina would stay with them for the week, Regina is not exactly keen on sleeping on the couch.

“Do you want to stay with Emma then?”

“I don’t know.” Staying in her old room in her father’s house feels… weird. Yes it is big enough, yes it has enough space, but walking in the footsteps of her father is something she cannot deal with just yet. Not after today, not after everything that happened. Regina feels a little lost, so she tells him so. “I don’t really know what to do right now to be honest.”

Robin blinks once, twice, and makes his way over to her. “We should talk about that letter and what’s in there, Regina.”

She sighs. “I know, it’s just… Robin I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know where to go… Perhaps I should take a room somewhere?”

“Nonsense!” Robin waves her suggestion off, a determined look on his features. He pulls her close into another hug, which feels nice, comforting. Robin is always so nice and comforting it’s as if he is the only thing she can fathom at the moment.

“Regina, I don’t want to say that I know exactly how you’re feeling and what you’re going through, but I have experienced something similar. You’re not alone in this. I’ll… We will figure something out. Whether it is about what to do next or where you will stay. I can take the couch or I’ll go and sleep in Roland’s room so you can have my bedroom. It would be weird for Roland to just have you drop by for visits, if… If you even still want to be with us that is.”

“I do! Of course I do,” Regina assures him quickly. “I just feel like we haven’t exactly thought this through.”

“Sometimes you just have to go along with what feels right. I’d love for you to stay with us.”

Regina takes a deep breath, contemplates for another moment and then nods. “Alright.”

He loosens the hug but stays close to her, a grin on his face that makes his dimples show. It’s cute, downright adorable. No match for his son of course, but if she is not careful…

“As for where to go next: We are invited to Granny’s diner for a session of cookie decorating and Christmas Dinner. I think there are a few people who’d love to meet you. Only if you want, of course. You’ve been through a lot today and I would completely understand if you’d rather stay at my place, take a bath and go to sleep early.”

A bath and some time to relax sounds good indeed. However, she is scared that being left alone to procrastinate in the quiet apartment with a ground floor full of whiskey might not be the smartest idea. She has turned to alcohol to drown her grief and emotions in far too often over the past few weeks and it is time to find another coping mechanism. Perhaps cookie decorating and getting some food into her empty stomach while having a cheerful little boy babble funny nonsense into her ear might be just the distraction she needs.

“Let’s go to Granny’s. Would you mind stopping at Emma’s so I can get my suitcase and chance? My pants are soaked and no offense, as comfortable as your hoodie was last night, I’d kind of like to have my own toothbrush and everything with me.”

“Of course. Pit stop at Emma’s. Now get in the car, it’s freezing.”

A soft smile spreads on her lips and she does as asked. The drive to her father’s house is short and when the three of them get out of the car to grab her things, Henry opens door for them. He is all dressed up, winter coat buttoned and ready to go, as is Emma who just appears in the hallway.

“Huh! I thought we were meeting up at Granny’s? And Regina, you’re back.”

“I… am. I’d like to apologize for earlier, Emma. To you, too, Henry.” Apologies never come easy to her, however this time she really feels the need to give one to them. She has caused enough trouble in their little family, would go as far to say she ruined their Christmas, but she is glad when Emma, instead of the snarky remark she expects, wraps her arms around her in quick hug.

“I’m glad you’re here, Regina, truly. Henry, do you have anything to say to Regina?” Emma asks Henry very pointedly. The boy huffs, burying his hands in the pockets of his coat. He mumbles something nobody understands and Regina wonders what all of this is about when Emma elbows his side.

“I’m sorry I read your letter,” Henry finally says.

“Oh…”

“I didn’t mean to be snooping, I went into the study and saw the broken glass and the album and the pieces and… I taped them back together. I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sorry.” His apology is honest, but all Regina can think about is the moment she took the pages and ripped them apart. Had she found matches in the study, she would have burned them, but luckily there have not been any. The letter, the last piece her father has left her.

She’d wanted to destroy it just as much as the letter has destroyed her at that moment, not thinking about the consequences. The letter contains everything important, everything her father has always wanted her to know and she’s treated his memory in the most careless way possible. Hearing now that Henry of all people has glued the pieces back together is the greatest gift of all.

“Henry, I don’t know what to say…”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I… Thank you. Thank you for putting the pieces back together. It… It means a lot to me.”

The boy blinks and only seconds later, a big smile spreads over his face. He turns to his mother as if to say ‘See, Mom!’ to which Emma reacts by pulling his hat into his face. Regina thanks him once again and slips inside the house, mumbling something about getting ready for the cookie decorating, which makes Roland all nervous.

“Hey, would you two mind taking Roland to Granny’s with you? Regina needs to change and grab her stuff. This little hobbit here is sitting on hot coals, worried the banana frosting will be all gone by the time we make it.” Robin wonders.

“Yay, banana frosting,” Roland chants excitedly which makes all adults chuckle.

While Henry says he doesn’t mind, Emma can see right through him. “Henry, Roland, why don’t you two wait at Robin’s car, I’ll be right with you, ok?”

“But Mooom…” the boy groans, knowing exactly that when his mom sends him away to watch Roland the adults will talk about interesting adult stuff.

“Henry!”

“Okay, okay… Come on, Roland. Let’s see if we can throw some snowballs…”

The moment the two kids are out of earshot, Emma turns toward Robin, holding out her hand. “Robin, I don’t want anyone to end up hurt over this.”

The man drops his car keys into Emma’s hand. “I know what I’m doing, Emma.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

Xxxxx

Regina is upstairs in her mother’s old room, getting ready for dinner at Granny’s. Ever since she remembers, her father and her mother have slept in separate rooms. The house has enough rooms, that’s not of any matter, and she has always felt that her mother never really loved her father. Things are slowly starting to make sense to Regina. Slowly.

She would have gone into her old room, however Henry now occupies that one. Emma has the former guest room now and Regina could not bring herself to enter her father’s old bedroom. The path down memory lane she has taken today has already been overwhelming enough. So her mother’s bedroom it is. Although she wonders why her father kept it with only slight changes, a new piece of furniture here and there as well as a new bed, she does not really mind right now. Still, it feels weird to sit at her mother’s old vanity, something she has never been allowed to do, as well as using the grand en-suite bathroom.

Her suitcase is placed on the bed, as is the photo album and her father’s letter, which Henry taped back together. She’s glad, more than thankful and knows she should have never ripped it apart in the first place. It does not matter that Henry and Emma probably read it and who knows, perhaps Emma knew already. Robin didn’t though, that much became clear when she told Roland.

Right. Roland, Granny’s… “Hurry up, Regina.”

It has been a bit of torture to peel herself out of the wet jeans, which stick to her body, leaving behind ice cold and reddish skin. Her hair looks tousled and much too curly for her liking. Early this morning she did not have the time and gadgets to straighten it out, leaving her head in a wild tangle. To sum up her appearance, she is a complete mess and that needs to change. Regina has to gain control of herself again and it starts with her hair.

She has always tried to control her inner emotions by the way she dressed. If you look put together on the outside, no one can see the mess on your inside. _“Don’t slouch, Regina. Get yourself together, Regina. Look presentable, Regina. Get rid of those ugly curls, Regina.”_ Her mother’s voice echoes in her head despite trying to shut it down. She cannot deal with Cora right now. Robin and Roland are waiting, so she’ll try to be quick.

Her make-up bag is spread out on the vanity, as is her flattening iron. She won’t be able to get rid of the curls fully, there is not enough time, but she can at least straighten it out partly. The same goes for the make-up. Just a little foundation and concealer to get rid of the remnants from crying all day. A little bit of mascara, eyeshadow, lipstick… perfect.

There’s a knock on the door while she’s applying the make-up and darn, she should have put some pants on before telling the person outside to come in, because well, for some reason she expected Emma and not Robin to be standing in the doorway.

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” He utters, his voice unfocused as she jumps up in surprise and stands before him with her legs all bare.

“Robin! I… I didn’t expect you, I’m sorry.”

“Mhmmm.” His eyes are wandering down her legs inch by inch, then all the way back up until they reach her eyes. He looks… smitten, face a little flushed maybe. She should tell him to go please, so she can change, but for some reason she does not mind him looking at her that way.

“Like what you see?” Regina teases playfully before she sits back down to finish her make-up.

Her flirty comment seems to release Robin from his trance. “I… uh - Emma and Henry took Roland to Granny’s already. I… I thought you might like some time to get ready and pack your - uh - things.”

“That’s very considerate of you, thank you, Robin.” Regina closes the mascara lid and takes a deep breath. “Robin, I… I am sorry for how I behaved earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” Regina insists, getting up once again. She’s tired of feeling this way, tired of feeling like her life is slipping from her fingers. Within a few quick steps, she is standing in front of the bed, taking the letter into her hand. “No, I need you to understand that I am usually not like this. Henry… My father, he… This letter just shattered my whole world.”

She hands it over to him and he takes it, keeping his eyes locked with hers. “Regina, I don’t think I should…”

“Please, read it. Read it and tell me what to think, because frankly, I don’t know what to feel anymore.” Sighing, she sits down on the edge of the bed, pulling the album onto her lap. “Here, you’ve seen the album, it contains all these memories, some of which I don’t even remember. It just doesn’t make sense. I always thought I knew him…”

“You did know him, Regina. You knew the best parts of him.”

“Up until yesterday I didn’t know about you, Roland, Emma, Henry, I didn’t know that he wasn’t my biological father. I feel like I know nothing, like everything’s a lie, like nothing is real,” she argues agitatedly. Breathe, Regina. She needs to breathe because she doesn’t want to cry again. She is done with crying!

Robin’s eyes wander over the letter, absorbing every word. There’s silence in the room and only when he’s gotten to the end on page three, he puts it back down on top of her suitcase and sits down next to her. “Regina… it does not matter that the two of you aren’t connected by blood. You are connected by love and this is the most important thing. Your father’s love _is_ real. And what I gather from the letter is that he did everything in his power to be with you. It’s your mother’s fault. She ripped him away from you; she tried to sabotage your relationship. She blackmailed him with you. He could have walked away from everything but he didn’t because he loved you. You’ve read the letter yourself. He’s so proud of the woman you’ve become. You’re so wonderful, Regina. You’re intelligent, passionate, caring, you’re stunning in every way, you…”

Robin does not get to continue. One moment he is talking and the other he suddenly finds himself wrapped up in a kiss, Regina’s lips pressed against his. Her one hand is holding onto his neck, pulling him close against her, while her other one is looking for support on the bed. She doesn’t know why she felt the urge to kiss him, knows she shouldn’t be doing this. Robin has been so kind to her ever since she came here.

Everything has gone wrong in the past few weeks and this, kissing him, is the first thing that feels right, that feels real. Regina can feel his surprise, is about to pull away and apologize when he finally opens up, one hand caressing her cheek, and kisses her back. A tiny moan escapes her when his tongue slips inside her mouth, playing, caressing. He tastes good, like one of the Christmas cookies she has seen on the plate in the living room - he probably must have snuck one before he made his way upstairs.

They break the kiss, gasping for air, foreheads pressed against each other. The tip of his nose is still a bit cold, so she kisses it, surprised when instead of pulling away he nuzzles closer against her.

“Regina,” he whispers. There’s hesitation in his voice and they should stop, this is not the right place, nor the right time for this. Instead of letting go of him though, Regina kisses him again, sucks at his lower lip and caresses it with her tongue.

“Robin, I… I need to feel something, something real. I’m questioning everything, I don’t know who I am anymore and in this mess of my life right now, you’re the only thing that’s constant.”

Robin swallows, hard, one hand pressing into her side, fingers itching. Regina pulls back, looking him directly in the eyes, vulnerable, pleading.

“Please make me feel something real, Robin.”

He does not need to be asked twice.

 

*TBC in the OQ Advent Calendar next year*

 

 

 


End file.
